Chapter 6: Detention - Taking Shape

Abbott

Abbott's hands were full, his mood, foul. Chicago law enforcement was rife with problems on its best day. The infiltration of the Blake Association into the ranks and possibly higher was a nightmare to distinguish from ample ordinary corruption. Progress was slow despite a number of arrests. The three week operation would easily drag on to four or more. Chicago proved the adage that a city's LE could never be better than its political leadership.

Fortunately, most of the Austin FBI could run on autopilot under the team leaders. Fischer's assignment was out of the ordinary, but that problem could wait. Abbott advised her to do her best in the few minutes he could spare. Meanwhile, his work on Blake was more than enough to deflect the Washington brass who were eager to move their pet project along.

Long away cases took a toll. Most of the newbies he had initiated with the CBI take down were still single, for which he was grateful. He, on the other hand, paid a domestic price. He already missed his wedding anniversary, a disappointment which Leah would accept with grace after many years as an FBI wife. But he was damned if he would miss his daughter's graduation. Regardless of cost or sleep.

Lisbon

Ten days after Jane's return, Lisbon's elation was slowly curdling into frustration, worry and, if she was honest, anger. She had written several times since the meeting in Austin. No letters came back so she assumed Jane must be receiving them. Still, her worry grew as the days ticked past. She received no replies. Her call to the Austin FBI office got her precisely nowhere. The receptionist forwarded her call to Kim Fischer, who blandly stated she could "neither confirm nor deny any information pertaining to Patrick Jane as he is a subject in an active FBI investigation." Contact with the relevant courts confirmed Jane had been neither officially arrested nor arraigned. That night she called Cho for the first time. Cho could only confirm that Jane remained in detention isolated from external contact. She spent the next two days stewing.

Lisbon's frustration boiled over. She slammed her fist down on her desk at the Cannon Falls PD. Since when do I sit around wringing my hands? If I don't do something I'll go stark raving mad.

"Chief?" Henry's anxious face appeared after a quick knock. "Anything wrong?"

Lisbon mustered a calm visage. "Everything's fine. Something fell on my desk. –Oh, hold my calls for fifteen minutes, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

Lisbon placed her call. "Hey, Gabe... It's been a while. ... Say, I'm going to be in Sacramento tomorrow. Can we get together for lunch? ... That'd be great." She placed her second call and then informed Henry she would be taking a vacation day.

Lisbon and Mancini

Her flight to Sacramento was uneventful. The weather was warm and sunny. Of course it's warm and sunny, Lisbon thought as she waited for her rental car. The weather only made an impression because it contrasted with cool, wet Washington. She drove to the Sacramento FBI building and parked in a nearby public garage. She signed in as a visitor and was cleared to go up to Mancini's office. His assistant knocked and ushered her in.

"Teresa! What a sight for sore eyes." Mancini rose and walked around his desk. He shook her hand and unexpectedly pulled her into a brief embrace.

Turning around in a circle. "Nice digs!" she said admiringly. "Doesn't look anything like it did when your – predecessor had it."

He laughed. "You can say her name." More seriously, "I changed everything. Don't want any memories. Shultz is in Federal prison along with a whole lot of Blake members. –Hey, let's head out, my treat."

"Gabe, you don't–"

"Yes, I do." A fondness showed in his eyes. "You travel, I host. And – I want to."

They settled into the booth. Though close to the old CBI, the restaurant was far enough so she didn't have to pass too many familiar, painful haunts. Blessedly, it was new since the CBI's demise. No memories at all. They ordered and handed their menus to the server.

"So, Teresa. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She smiled, "Maybe I'm just passing through, wanted lunch with my favorite FBI agent."

His smile turned wistful, "Could be. But it's not you. You always have a purpose."

She looked down and shrugged. "I do have a question, off the record. But why don't we catch up first. Pleasure before business."

"Now that's a new attitude!" His eyes flicked to her left hand.

"How are you, Gabe? I assume you ... weathered it okay?"

He sighed. "The whole situation stank. Finding out the people around me were dirty made me sick. Abbott uncovered a bunch, here and in the other California offices."

"You're the director, now. You came out all right?"

"Yeah." He looked a little guilty. "Listen, Teresa, I always thought you got a raw deal. I mean, your team uncovered Blake and for Abbott–"

Softly, "-Gabe, it's okay. No one on my team died and life goes on. Couldn't expect the CBI to survive with so much corruption. I – I don't know why I didn't see it–"

It was his turn to interrupt. "–Your SCU was a cut above and apart." His laugh was bitter. "If anyone understands it's me. Remember? Dirty boss and partner?"

She touched his arm. "What's important is the rot's cleaned up." Their food was served. As they started to eat, "I hear you finally tied the knot. She's one lucky woman."

He smiled, set his fork down and fished out his cell. "Yep. Finally found the one." His cell phone displayed a pretty 30-something woman holding an infant.

"Yours?!"

"Yeah. Dominick Gabriel Mancini. Two months old and the light of my life."

They talked, sharing LE news and gossip about joint acquaintances. Mancini passed on what he knew about the new California investigative agency. Madeline Hightower had just been hired to head it after a couple of false starts. They finally got to dessert.

Mancini pushed his plate back with a sigh. "Okay, Teresa, the suspense is killing me. What's up?"

She took a deep breath. "Theoretically, how does the FBI hold someone indefinitely without getting the case dismissed for violating due process?"

He stiffened. "We're not talking terrorist or anything Homeland Security, right?"

"Right."

Mancini grimaced. "I don't officially know this, but I've heard rumors. The Bureau can skirt the edge of legality through a polite fiction. Assuming the 'person of interest' doesn't want to be charged, the FBI agrees not to charge so long as the suspect 'voluntarily' stays somewhere like a hotel room."

"Theoretically, how do I get around that, especially if there's no communication with the outside world?"

He looked at her hard. "Not sure. You'd probably have to catch the Bureau violating some other right." He shrugged. "Denial of basic rights. Torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. Judges give the Bureau leeway, but there are limits. Judges see through any 'voluntary' agreement and kick cases if we go too far."

She nodded, "Appreciate the insight."

"Who, Teresa?" She didn't answer. "It's Jane, isn't it?" After a moment, "Never liked him and killing McAllister was flat out murder." After a moment, "-But I'm not sorry McAllister's dead." Softly, "Good luck, Teresa."

She gave him a peck on the cheek, "Thanks, Gabe."

Lisbon drove to San Francisco and spent the night with Wayne Rigsby and Grace Van Pelt (who only used "Rigsby" socially). Though Cho had spoken with Rigsby, he hadn't even hinted Jane was back, confirming Lisbon's take on how suspicious Cho was of the Austin bureau. They were surprised, pleased, hopeful, concerned and a bunch of other adjectives at the news. They offered her any help she might need, though it seemed unlikely their PI world would intersect with government bureaus again. Rigsby was as surprised and concerned at Cho's suspicions as about Jane's situation. This was supposed to be Cho's big break, but the long shadow of Blake was trailing them all.

Fischer

Kim Fischer's frustrated was growing. Patrick Jane showed no sign of relenting after two weeks of detention. How can he be so stupid? foolish? – no, stubborn to think he'll prevail? She visited more often. Every time she came up with a new perspective, a new persuasive argument, she would try it out. Other than shaking his head with a smile, Jane didn't even deign to argue.

Jane's life remained deadly boring. Fischer grilled the guards to verify that her orders were followed to the letter. Jane had no outside contact. Mediocre would be a generous description of his food. His clothes were laundered once a week on Friday and returned Saturday morning. He didn't get replacement clothes since the humiliation and vulnerability furthered her efforts. (Jane used a sheet until his clothes were returned each time.) He received no books, movies, TV, magazines, newspapers or anything else to relieve the boredom. His daily hour of exercise meant an hour in an outdoor cage without any equipment. She wanted to drive home how she controlled every aspect of his existence, an existence which would remain monotonous and dull until he agreed to work for the FBI.

Fischer saw no progress and eventually swallowed her pride and called Abbott for guidance. He didn't have time to talk and her frustration ticked up another notch. A golden future tantalized her, if only the infuriating bastard would take the deal. Who refuses an offer to drop murder charges?!

At wits' end, Fischer finally did what she always did and reached out to her father. Now retired from the CIA, he was an excellent resource for figuring out how to compel compliance, obedience. She didn't aim to break Patrick Jane, but she needed him to comply. She knew Jane's life would be better If he could be moved by logic, by the opportunity to start a new life working for the FBI. His resistance was inexplicable.

On Monday, she got the news that Abbott's trip would be extended. On Tuesday, she saw an opportunity to finally bend Jane to her will. She stopped by the detention center just before dinner was served to the detainees. She left feeling a little relief, a little less pressure now that she finally took action.

Jane

Jane continued to bide his time, waiting till frustration and pressure from above would compel the agents to meet his terms. Fischer regularly appeared, but he refused to deal with her. She didn't have the authority to give him what he wanted. And by now he disliked her personally. She hadn't lifted a finger when Ortero's thugs beat him. She appeared totally comfortable with his indefinite solitary confinement which she was apparently directing. Regardless of physical attractiveness, Jane's brief meeting with Lisbon reminded him anew of the compassion so glaringly missing in Fischer. Abbott's absence surprised him, till Jane realized Abbott had to be away on a case. Fischer certainly showed no sign of being guided by Abbott's wiliness and subtlety.

Jane kept busy. Despite natural disinclination, Jane systematically started to exercise. If his plans failed and he had to escape at some point, he needed to be in decent physical shape. A means of communication was the most important lack, but he was making progress. The guards rigidly adhered to their orders not to communicate, and he suspected his "suite" was bugged. But he whispered suggestions that one tap would mean "no," and two, "yes." He couldn't ask for much, but their willingness to go along told him he'd gained their cooperation. Once or twice he even heard Cho talking in the hall. Cho was louder than necessary for the guards to hear. It was enough to know Cho was keeping tabs on the situation, that he wasn't in this alone.

On Wednesday, he woke up groggy, with a headache and no memory after Monday night.

Shit! I'm in trouble.