Chapter 16: Trust
Cho, The FBI, Austin
Cho had left Abbott's briefing an hour ago. He finished briefing the Secret Service on the threat and returned his work phone to its charging base. Lisbon and Jane are on their way back to Brooklyn. He sighed, Along with Fischer. They didn't need his help checking out Jane's hunch, but he was uncomfortable with Fischer in the mix. Lisbon called on the way to the Austin airport to fill him in on the rest of the briefing. Regardless of the ransom note and possible involvement of extremist groups, he had a feeling Schneiderman's disappearance lay much closer to home. Jane's indifference to the extremist group idea strengthened his own gut instinct. He was turning hazy notions over in his head when he noticed someone standing by his desk.
Looking up, "Wylie, what are you doing?"*
"Waiting for you."*
"To do what?"*
"Notice me."*
Cho frowned. "Okay. What do you want?"*
"Uh, after I finished the stuff Abbott assigned, I took another look at the key card data. Thought you might be interested since your team went there."
"And?"
Eagerly, he plopped a sheaf of printouts on Cho's desk. He pointed to a highlighted section. "This is the list of key cards and the assigned users in and out from an hour before Abel Schneiderman arrived to an hour after Defiance Schneiderman came home." He shuffled the pages. "But look at the data from earlier that day. Each key card is linked to one renter. Except–" he pointed, "Defiance Schneiderman has this extra card linked to her. How come?"
Cho's eyes narrowed. "An extra card for someone else?"
"That's what I thought."
"And that someone else came in before Abel Schneiderman got there."
"And stayed. There's no exit linked to that card."
That's one too many coincidences. "Thanks, Wylie."
"Sure." Wylie collected his printouts and turned to leave.
"Wylie."
Wylie turned back, "Yes, Si– Cho?"
Cho showed him a photo on his cell phone. "This is a photo of the building manager and owner. Good enough to try facial recognition?
Wylie shrugged. "Maybe. –What's the name?"
"Nguyen Hai. That's 'n,' 'g,' 'u,' 'y,' 'e,' 'n,' 'h,' 'a,' 'i.' Most likely in the New York City area."
"Send it to me and I'll get on it." Wylie hesitantly smiled, "Thanks."
For what? Taking you seriously? Agreeing? Cho forwarded the photo to Wylie then turned to more important things to worry about. Like Abel Schneiderman. Longer he's missing the more likely he's been broken. Or killed. He could stay in Austin and do computer research with ten other people. Or he could follow his gut and get back to Brooklyn. He rose to talk to Abbott. Ten minutes later he was on his way. Abbott grudgingly went along with the request. But then Abbott keenly felt the time pressure as well. Grasping at straws and hunches was worth a try since by-the-book produced zip so far.
Cho lucked out. He caught one of the handful of non-stops to New York City soon after getting to the airport. He texted Lisbon even though her cell would be turned off during her flight. Once in the air, he used the plane's on-board cell service to call Wylie in hopes facial recognition software turned something up. Not yet. Cho told Wylie he'd call periodically.
Wylie had hits three-and-a-half hours into Cho's flight. Cho impatiently brushed aside Wylie's apologies for how long it took to sharpen the photo, get permission and links to numerous law-enforcement databases, and then wade through the large Asian population of New York City and environs. There were four likely matches. Cho quickly discarded the ones that didn't seem to fit the man he'd met at the building. Former noodle shop proprietor and building owner Nguyen Hai turned out to be Tran Hieu, a former member of the vicious Green Dragons gang, motto "Born To Kill." Just because he's been away from it for awhile doesn't mean he's changed. Beginning to get interesting. Landing was imminent by the time Cho was done with Wylie, precluding another call. He'd call as soon as he disembarked.
As soon as he turned his cell on, he got Lisbon's voice mail: 'Cho, we have a problem.'
Lisbon, Cho and Raichel, Brooklyn
Lisbon buttoned her pea coat tightly in the taxi. Since she'd arrived, temperatures had dropped 20 degrees and a cutting wind heralded the cold front moving in. It occurred to her Jane had only his three-piece suit. –Wherever the hell he is.
Cho called her back.
"Jane's missing."
"How, why?"
"I went with Fischer to check out the psychic and the building owner. Raichel went to the building with Jane. He left Jane on the roof an hour ago. Just checked the apartment and roof and no sign of him. Thinks Jane may have gone down the fire escape."
"–You try–"
"–Went to voice mail."
"What's Fischer doing?"
"Tracked his cell to a city dump, has an agent going to check. Put out BOLO for Jane."
"Okay. I'm 30 minutes away. Meet you there."
"You flew in?"
"Yeah. Lisbon, did Jane say anything that'd explain why he'd leave? Hunch, anything?"
"I've been wracking my brain. Nothing. –Except when I asked what he was looking for, he said, 'Where you typically find a corpse?'"
"Damn cryptic bastard."
She muttered, "Tell me about it." Then, louder, "Cho, Fischer's BOLO says 'armed and dangerous.' He could get shot."
"Let's rule out the building first. I'll call Fischer." He added, "Start searching soon as you get there. Be careful. Nguyen Hai is an alias for Tran Hieu, former gang member."
"Cho-"
"Yeah?"
"You don't think–"
"He gave his word. I'm going with that," Cho answered curtly.
She clenched her jaw, tortured by uncertainty. "Okay."
The taxi pulled up shortly after their call. Lisbon threw some bills at the cab driver and bolted out the door, not waiting for change. Agent Raichel let her inside with the temporary key card.
"Raichel, brief me."
"Arrived at 3:20 and went up to the roof. My bronchitis was kicking up from the wind and Jane told me to wait downstairs." Lisbon didn't bother to hide her contempt for Raichel's excuse. He ignored that and plowed on. "I waited in the lobby till 4:10. Was about to check when I heard the escape ladder clang down on the sidewalk. I ducked outside and saw someone disappear around the corner. No one in sight when I got there. I came back and checked the roof and Schneiderman's apartment but no Jane. That's when I called Fischer."
"How sure are you it was Jane?"
Raichel shook his head. "Not sure at all. I saw motion. I only know it was a person, not a dog or something."
Lisbon looked around. There was no one within earshot. "My boss found out Nguyen Hai is an alias. The building owner is a former Green Dragons gang member–"
Raichel gave a low whistle.
"-Jane wouldn't duck out without a reason," she continued. God, let that be true! "We need to search this place and make sure he isn't here."
Raichel nodded, face grim at his failure to stick with a fellow LEO – consultant or not, regardless of the gossip Fischer related about Jane.
"Let's start here. You take left, I'll go right. We need to keep an eye on the door, too. Then we'll go up and start on the apartments, 'kay?" Raichel nodded. They drew their weapons and split up. The ground floor was two stories high and nearly half an acre of space, but the search was quick because it was nearly empty.
Lisbon and Raichel had just returned when Lisbon's cell vibrated. Raichel let Cho into the lobby, slamming the door closed against the biting wind.
"Status?"
"Raichel and I searched this floor. About to start on the apartments."
"I need your help first, Raichel. I need a BOLO on Tran Hieu. He could be involved and may leave the US. The ransom will be deposited overseas tonight."
"Uh, my SA should–"
"I need a favor. Fischer's the liaison and she refuses. Can you do it on your authority?"
"Sure." Raichel felt it was the least he could do after losing track of Jane. He took out his cell and called his office. The BOLO for Tran would go out in minutes.
The three piled into the elevator. When they reached the third floor Cho pulled the emergency button to put the elevator out of service. They systematically searched each apartment. It being Sunday, many were occupied. Cho overrode any hesitation by explaining they were interested in only the missing FBI agent (not worrying about accuracy). Continued resistance was quashed by advice to file a complaint. They broke down the doors of unoccupied apartments. Raichel left a card so residents could file a claim for repairs.
They finished searching the third and fourth floors and found nothing. All that was left was the apartment of Nguyen Hai alias Tran Hieu on the top floor, and, the roof. Raichel broke down the apartment door. All three rushed in, weapons drawn. Their caution was for naught because the apartment was empty. Cho swore under his breath. All that was left was the roof.
All three climbed the half-flight of stairs, slid back the bolt and stepped onto the roof. Night had fallen while they'd been searching. The wind whipped around them, quickly chafing any exposed skin. The half-moon and bright starlight let them see well enough. Weapons drawn, their backs to the stairwell enclosure for protection, they again found – nothing. Within minutes Raichel was doubled over with continuous deep, congested coughing spells. Lisbon mentally revised her opinion, realizing Raichel would have been useless had he stayed on the roof with Jane. Cho jerked his head for Raichel to step back inside the door, out of the wind.
Swearing softly, Cho looked at Lisbon, "Got any ideas?" he asked loud enough to be heard over the wind.
Lisbon didn't answer, gaze transfixed by the pile of dirt. "Cho, that's it!" Excitedly, "Where do you find a corpse? Buried in the ground. In dirt." She picked up a slender wooden stake from a pile near a small storage shed and poked it into the big, dirt-filled trough. The stick encountered something solid, but yielding. A shiver having nothing to do with the cold ran down her spine.
Grabbing a hand trowel, Cho's digging quickly exposed a black plastic bag. He used the trowel point to tear it and gagged as the smell of death rose from the bag. Lisbon grimly looked closely and sighed in relief. The clothes weren't Jane's. Or Schneiderman's.
"Cleo Ascencio, I'd guess," she said, then turned away. It wasn't a body, just the dismembered torso.
Cho tipped over another large pot. Dirt and another bag spilled out. This time it was a foot. He reached for his cell phone, but Raichel stepped out and interrupted him.
"Cho, NYPD intercepted Tran. Was trying to board a flight to Honduras. Told them to bring him here."
"Good," Cho all but shouted over the wind.
Raichel looked around, shielding his mouth with his coat collar. "Jesus. Is that what I think it is?" he said loudly, looking at the several plastic bags.
"Yeah. Ascencio," Lisbon said.
Jane, Brooklyn, Earlier
Raichel parked, again ignoring the 'No Parking' lettering painted with reflective white paint. He and Jane walked to Schneiderman's building and Raichel let them in with the temporary key card.
"Roof first," Jane said. They passed by the building manager-owner's apartment. Jane noted there was no one behind the spyhole this time. Nguyen's out. Good. Raichel slid back the bolt and they stepped onto the roof. Jane noticed that the temperature had already dropped several degrees and the wind had picked up. He looked around, particularly interested in the larger planters. Raichel started coughing deep, hacking coughs. He didn't stop.
Jane looked at him. "Raichel, wait in the lobby. You'll hack up a lung."
Between spasms, Raichel replied, "Should–" cough, "stay with you," he wheezed.
"One way in or out. Just call if you see Nguyen."
Raichel nodded, unable to muster breath to talk.
Jane opened the small supply shed. Nothing particularly nefarious. Hand trowel, spray paint, by-pass pruners, twine, plant stakes, buckets, pesticides, fertilizers. His eyebrows rose in surprise. Roll of black plastic bags. He thought for a second, frowned and nodded, Oh. He picked up a thin plant stake and walked over to a big planter filled with dirt. He poked the stake into the loose ground. It easily went through the dirt down to the bottom. He tried the large trough next. He encountered something solid on his second try. Whatever it was had 'give.' It wasn't rigid like a block or piece of wood. Jane stepped back eyeing the trough - 4' by 2' by 2' deep. He closed his eyes and swallowed a mouthful of saliva, trying to keep down his lunch. After a couple of deep breaths he muttered, "Little garden of horrors," and walked to the door to leave, about 15 minutes after he had come up.
Jane pulled. Bolted. He closed his eyes visualizing Raichel leaving the roof, then swore. Raichel had not bolted the door. Crap.
Jane reached for his cell, only to realize he hadn't gotten Raichel's number. And Lisbon's too far away! He shoved an empty steel workbench against the door, knowing anyone who came through wouldn't be his friend, then ran to the fire escape.
Bad news was seeing Nguyen three floors down. Worse news was the glint of gray metal in his hand. Gun.
He looked around. There was nothing he could use to counter a gun. The buildings on either side were several feet higher over a 50 foot drop. No.
Damn. Jane ran to the supply cabinet and grabbed a can of spray paint, making sure it was the reflective stuff. He sprayed huge block letters on the roof, the white paint barely showing up against the white gravel. He tossed the can over the side when he finished. Hoping against hope, Jane pulled the door again. Still bolted. Still trapped.
Nguyen stepped onto the landing and then onto the roof, gun in hand. Jane couldn't tear his gaze from the black hole of the barrel. He struggled to contain his fear, to think! No silencer, thank god. Nguyen wouldn't want to shoot with an FBI agent downstairs. His fear eased a bit.
Nguyen smiled mirthlessly, perfectly following his thoughts. "That's right. I won't shoot unless you make me. So don't make me."
"What are you going to do?"
"Let mother nature take care of you." Brusquely, "Get over here and lie down on your belly." He threw a pair of old handcuffs by Jane's hand. "Cuff yourself. Behind your back."
When Jane finished, Nguyen got twine from the shed. He knelt on Jane's back and put a loop around one ankle, striking the bone with his gun when Jane tried to kick him in the head.
"You're gonna be tied with a concussion or without. Your choice." Finished with the rope, he forced a work rag into Jane's mouth and tied it behind his head. Nguyen stood and laughed. "Trussed up like a pig. Ironic, no?"
He walked over to the attic hatch, unlocked the padlock, and opened the lid. He then dragged Jane over the low edge and dumped him in. Jane fell heavily, unable to break his fall or even cry out. Before the cover was closed he could make out small bags of white powder. Drugs. The good news was that he hadn't been killed or even hurt badly. The bad news was that Nguyen didn't care about him seeing several hundred thousands worth of drugs. Nguyen didn't plan on him seeing the light of day again. His hands were already numb from the cold.
There was absolutely no chance he could free himself. He could while away the time in abject fear. Or work out the crime. Jane chose the latter.
Nguyen was moving the drugs when Ascencio came up. Somehow he got in, no doubt to snoop and bolster her belief in his amazing psychic powers. Why the roof? More snooping, maybe drop some detail about Abel's garden. Wrong place, wrong time. Nguyen killed and dismembered him. Buried the parts in the big planters in black plastic bags. Keep the smell down. 'Deliver' the planters and – voila! – no body to find. Only Abel came home early and caught him. Somehow Nguyen knew Schneiderman was worth something. Wouldn't kill Schneiderman, at least not immediately. Huh. Schneiderman might be alive. Kept somewhere here. Nguyen's apartment? Another apartment – vacant, maybe? Geez. Dismembering. This can't be the first time. There's more to Nguyen than a noodle shop and this building. Please, Lisbon. Figure it out. Wonder if Wylie – Don't speculate! Just keep breathing, Paddy. Long shot, but they'll be looking for me. Shit! Unless they think I ran. I told Cho, promised him. And Lisbon. God, let them trust me. Ignore the past lies and deceptions. ... Please!
Hours passed. The chill settled in his bones. His hands and feet were so numb pain didn't register. He could kill for water though. The gag absorbed his saliva and the cold, dry air robbed him of moisture as he breathed. He wondered if drugs had ever spilled, if he would inadvertently over-dose. He really, really wondered if they would find him. It almost became an abstract curiosity. He literally couldn't move, couldn't make a sound. Either they found him. In time. Or they didn't. It was completely out of his control and there was almost comfort in that. Except for the searing pain of not having those years to finally, finally openly love Lisbon – make her his. Hot tears wasted more moisture until he thought and felt nothing more.
Lisbon, Cho and Raichel, Brooklyn
Cho again reached for his cell phone and was startled when it rang first. "Cho. Can't hear. Wait." He ducked inside the stairwell and pulled the door to. "Go ahead."
Wylie's voice said, "I'm looking at satellite images of Schneiderman's building. Looks like spray-painted letters."
"We're on the roof. Didn't see anything."
"I'm sending you the image. Capital letters 't,' 'a,' and 'n.'" After a pause, "Looks like there's more, but it's just scattered sparkles."
"Thanks." Cho ended the call and went back outside.
Lisbon had found a flashlight in the shed and was looking around.
"Wylie says letters are spray-painted on this roof." They both frowned. "'T,' 'A,' 'N,' and maybe another one that got messed up."
"Jane! He's here somewhere."
Lisbon played the light over the roof then ran to the attic access hatch. Raichel started hacking again and Cho waved him back to the stairwell.
"Cho, the lock has new scratches. We need to open this!" She drew her gun and aimed at the lock. She motioned Cho back for safety. The trajectory would nearly parallel the rooftop, ensuring that anyone under the roof or in the building wouldn't be hit.
Suddenly, "Cho," Raichel called, "PD has Tran here."
"Go help Lisbon," he said as he sidled past Raichel.
Ears ringing from the shot Lisbon nudged the hot metal hasp off with the toe of her boot. She and Raichel pulled the heavy wooden lid open. The flashlight revealed a gray suited figure atop the joists four feet below the roof.
"Jane!"
He groaned and barely moved. He lay on his front, hands and feet hogtied behind him, mouth gagged. Movement was impossible.
"Help me get him up!" Lisbon demanded, then realized Cho would have to help.
She ran down to Nguyen-Tran's apartment. A PD officer was standing near the handcuffed man. Cho was demanding, "...us where Schneiderman is."
Tran smiled contemptuously. "I don't know anything."
"Cho, you and Raichel have to get Jane. He's unconscious and it's freezing up there."
A muscle jumped in Cho's jaw. "Keep him here," he said to the cop and strode off toward the stairs. Lisbon followed for a few yards, then thought better of it and went back.
Tran had picked the lock. He kicked the cop in the groin and ran for the elevator.
"Stop or I'll shoot!"
He didn't.
She wounded him in the left shoulder, knocking him off his feet.
Lisbon ran to him and kneed him in the back to keep him down. She cuffed his right hand and savagely pulled it back as she grabbed his left and cuffed it too.
"Get up." He moaned but didn't move till she nudged him with her boot none too gently. She herded him back to the apartment.
Cho followed on their heels. "Got it?"
Lisbon nodded. "Jane?"
"He's breathing. Think he'll be okay." Cho grabbed a blanket from the bedroom and returned to the roof.
The cop had recovered enough to stand upright as she came in with Tran. "Call an ambulance. Nguyen, Tran, whoever the hell you are, where's Schneiderman? Tell us if you want to be alive for that ambulance."
"You bitch, you cun–" The cop backhanded Tran, cutting off his tirade.
Coldly, "You're under arrest for the attempted murder of Patrick Jane. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. -You face execution if Schneiderman dies." She stepped closer and shoved his wounded left shoulder. "Tell me!"
Tran's face blazed with hate.
"Officer, I need to step out a minute. Maybe you'd like to ask him a question?" Lisbon said, looking pointedly at Tran's groin.
"You fu–" The officer shoved him back against the wall by his left shoulder.
Tran slumped. Thin-lipped with pain, eyes alight with rage, he said sullenly, "No death penalty and I'll tell you."
Lisbon stood rigid with anger. "No death penalty if Jane and Schneiderman live. Take it or leave it."
"He's in the closet."
"We searched."
"Behind the false wall, you stupid Anglos."
"Watch him." Lisbon walked farther into the apartment. It took a few minutes, but she found the closet and managed to open the hidden door.
Everything happened at once. Cho and Raichel carried a barely conscious Jane down the stairs. Lisbon untied an unconscious Schneiderman and removed the gag, relieved he was alive if beat up. The EMT's arrived with a stretcher, then called for two more at the sight of three injured men.
Cho said, "Check these two first," pointing to Jane and Schneiderman. Voice rough, "Make sure he doesn't bleed out," he nodded toward Tran.
FBI, Austin
Cho's team returned to Austin late Monday. Hypothermic, battered, and exhausted, Jane spent Sunday night in a trauma center with Lisbon by his side. It was quickly clear Jane and Schneiderman would recover. The NY FBI had police protection posted for Schneiderman and, at Cho's request, for Jane too. Cho spent much of his night at the FBI office. After briefing Abbott by phone, he wrote out his report with Raichel's help. The FBI got him a room at a hotel near the hospital. The three caught a flight back to Austin around noon, Monday. Jane and Lisbon went straight home. Cho met with Abbott.
Cho knocked. Abbott waved him in and Cho took a seat. They sat in silence for a minute.
"Excellent work. All three of you. And Wylie, too."
"Yes."
Abbott's eyes narrowed. "But what?"
"You said I'm not under suspicion."
"You aren't."
Cho leaned forward. "Why was Fischer allowed to refuse a reasonable request on this case?"
"Details?"
"I wanted a BOLO for Nguyen, alias Tran. She refused. Your agent should follow a reasonable request by any team leader."
"She should. I will–"
"There's more."
"Go ahead."
"Fischer put out an "armed and dangerous' BOLO out for Jane. Could have been shot. Fischer also got in the way of Lisbon's work on the case."
"I used Fischer because she knows some New York agents and because everyone was working the case. I will have a discussion with her about your concerns."
"Another point."
"Which is?"
"Jane could have disappeared. He didn't."
"So?"
"I want that trust extended to my team. Specifically, Jane."
"You ask a lot, Cho."
"You're getting a lot, Agent Abbott."
Abbott leaned back in his chair, a speculative gleam in his eye. "Why do you trust Jane?"
"He gave me his word."
Skeptically, "Which you believe?"
"Jane is the most devious person I know. He rarely makes promises. When he does, it means something."
"I am not convinced. Yet."
Cho drew a breath and exhaled slowly. "Until you're convinced, I need my team protected. I need reasonable requests followed."
"I agree."
"Yes, Sir."
"Cho–" Cho turned back. "Good work." Cho nodded and left.
Lisbon and Jane
Lisbon and Jane entered their respective apartments. Both showered and changed after the grueling weekend. Lisbon tapped on Jane's door.
"Hey," she said, entering. "I ordered Tex-Mex, including your favorites. Barbeque, cowboy caviar, cornbread."
He sank down on the couch, still tired, still vaguely cold. "Thanks. I'll pay. There's money in my wallet."
"Tea?"
"Blessed is Saint Teresa."
She flicked his arm. "You know I don't like that. 'Sides, never heard of any 'saint' having torrid sex with her unbearably handsome partner."
He chuckled, "You know they edit out the good parts."
She sighed, "Glad you're not religious."
Head back, eyes closed, he grinned. "Makes two of us."
She returned with tea for them both. Instead of sitting next to him she sat in the armchair at right angles to the couch.
Jane sipped the steaming liquid. "Mmmmm. Best medicine in the world."
Serious, "Feeling better?"
"Yeah. Not sure I'll ever be warm again."
Lisbon sighed.
"That sounds ominous.
"Jane, what am I s'posed to do with you?"
"Oh, lots of things I hope very much you – we – will keep doing."
"This is serious."
This time he sighed. He sat straighter and opened his eyes. "This has been building all day. What's the matter, Teresa?"
"What did we agree on, just last week?"
"Never again order from that dumpy Thai restaurant?"
Voice raised, "Dammit. Just last week you said you'd tell me – hell, tell me and Cho – before you run off half cocked and put yourself in danger."
He took a deep breath, then winced as his bruised ribs protested. "I – I'm trying. We both went to New York. Something about that roof bothered me, but I wasn't sure–"
She abruptly stood. "I need to know long before 'sure.' You thought there was a body buried up there, made a joke about where to find a corpse. You couldn't tell Cho and me?"
He dropped his gaze and rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension. Faintly, "I could have ... mentioned it."
Her eyes flashed in anger. "So what happens next time?"
He met her gaze. "I'll try – I will tell you. Beforehand."
"Trust, Jane."
Remembering those hours trapped on the roof, he swallowed a lump. "Thank you for trusting me. For not thinking I ran off."
She settled in her chair, mollified. "Yeah, well, we both have to start somewhere. Jane – Patrick, I'll stick with you so long as you're really trying, so long as I see progress."
He exhaled tiredly. "I can't ask for more." She rose to answer the door for the food but he grabbed her wrist. "We will make this work." Awkwardly honest, no mask, no doubt.
"I'm counting on it." She pecked him on the lips and tugged her hand loose so she could answer the door.