Chapter 20: Not Over Even When It's Over

A/N: Asterisk (*) indicates verbatim quotations from The Golden Hammer episode.

FBI Office, Austin

The pudgy, geeky guy swivelled in his chair. Grinning, "Coyote! Slumming it?"

Wylie tossed a package of M&M's on Hastings's desk and plopped down onto the side chair. "Heard you caught a mole."

Ripping the package open, he replied around a mouthful of chocolate bits, "Yeah. Hardest part was getting NSA on board." Cheerfully, "Those bastards think they're hot shit just 'cause they control the tracking software." After a moment, "Why you here?"

"Off the record info."

"About?"

The tall, lanky blonde shrugged nonchalantly, "Making sure my team is righteous."

Hastings leaned forward, "Think they aren't?" he asked eagerly.

Wylie shook his head, "Uh-uh. Just making sure."

"So – what?"

"You've been on Blake since the start. What's the low-down on Lisbon's old SCU team?"

Disappointed he had nothing lurid to share, "After the CBI takedown I spent months researching them. That Jane guy pulled a lot of stunts, cut corners and the others went along. But always to catch a perp. None of 'em dirty, none of 'em Blake."

Wylie chewed that over while Hastings ate more candy. "Was Waller a surprise?"

Hastings frowned. "Big one. That spooky chick Fischer got suspicious and had me set a trap. Shocked the hell out of Abbott – much as you can tell with him."

"Think that's the only mole?"

"How the hell should I know? No one expected it. ... Though guess it was obvious when Davenport was tipped off. Why?"

"Nothing. Surprised 's all. –Hey, gotta go. Come upstairs sometime."

Hastings turned away. "Nope. Too much politics, too many bosses. Last thing I need is extra face time with Abbott."

Outdoor FBI Plaza, Austin

The last of Cho's Coke washed down the last bite of pizza for the closed case of Charles Whitaker. They were gathered around a table in the FBI plaza an hour after the end of the day. He tuned back into the conversation.

"... would have thought that mousy little admin to the CEO would be the murderer?" Wylie opined in disbelief.

Jane smirked as Lisbon responded, eyebrows furrowed, "You don't need bulk to taser a guy and drug him while he's unconscious!"

"Oh, uh, I didn't mean anything–"

Jane threw fuel on the fire, "Surprised because it was a tiny woman, Jason? Some small packages are loaded with C4."

Wylie stalled by gulping his soda, gaze skittering away from the face of the fierce, diminutive woman. He faintly said, "Yeah," and busied himself collecting empty pizza boxes.

Cho looked around, confirming no one was within earshot. "Decide, Wylie?"

The fair young man stopped messing with the boxes. He sat down and slid back to face the other three from a comfortable distance. Carefully, "I'll decrypt the file so long as you give the names to Abbott. That's all. –For now."

"Fine. Work on a dedicated computer, not networked, no Internet connection." Wylie began to frown.

Jane piped up, "I'll cover whatever you need." He handed him a thumb drive and a prepaid card. "Ten grand. Let me know if you need more."

Wylie huffed in surprise, pocketed the card, and examined the drive. "Copy, right? These weren't out till last year." Jane nodded.

Cho, again, "Can you access FBI decryption software?"

Wylie blushed, "I, uh, have it at home. –More convenient," he explained guiltily.

"Several programs were used sequentially. Each name encrypted separately. Blake member Alexa Shultz is one name on that file."

Wylie's eyebrows rose. "Each name is a different problem," he concluded. Cho nodded. "How do you – oh." He looked at Lisbon. "You got your old analyst working on it too." Jane and Cho looked pleased.

Lisbon spoke, "Jason, this is dangerous. Blake wants to destroy this file and anyone who knows about it. Keep it secret, protect your work. And yourself."

He pursed his lips, sobered. "Will do. I – I'll let you know when I get something."

Cho handed him a burner phone, "Use this if you need to call. I'm '1,' Jane's '2,' Lisbon's '3.' Give Abbott the file if anything happens to us." Wylie took it, excited, worried, and determined all at once. Cho nodded, Lisbon patted his shoulder, Jane smiled. They broke and left for home.

Jane and Lisbon, Austin

Sometimes they drove in together, sometimes apart. Lisbon didn't particularly give a damn what anyone thought. She was there for Jane. They were there to earn his freedom and eliminate Blake to have a future. Yes, they would solve crimes, deliver justice to victims, give closure to the bereaved. All important. But Lisbon no longer harbored the blind dedication that sidelined a personal life for 20 years – not after accomplishing the extraordinary only to be betrayed by the system she served.

Today they'd driven in together, were leaving together. Lisbon glanced to her right, wondering at his silence. She nudged his shoulder with her elbow. He blinked and faced her.

"Hey. Caught the perp, recruited Wylie. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing." He automatically deflected her question with a smile.

"Something is," she persisted. "What?"

He shrugged a little, thinking out loud. "Whitaker's murder. Such a waste. All the brainpower and resources devoted to breaking things and killing people."

"To defend the innocent and prevent wars," she countered severely. Lighter, "Plus there are peaceful spin-offs. The GPS. Lasers. Radar."

"I was depressed learning about Leonardo DaVinci as a kid. A towering genius of recorded history." He snorted. "He honed his talents and developed his ideas in the endless city state wars."

"Where's this melancholy coming from?"

He inhaled, "Nothing important. Tired we're still working this. Thought we were done after–" he swallowed, "-you know."

"How about a little R and R? Hit the pool. Dessert. After that, who knows," she smiled, glad to have new ways of cheering him, of keeping the stress at bay.

He changed topic, forcing a lighter tone. "I really do like that hat on you. And ... dresses."

Dryly, "Hat: Okay. Dresses, when you wear ties."

He grumbled, "Cruel woman."

She turned off the ignition and set the parking break. Soberly, "Patrick, about yesterday. You know I'm not interested in Ardiles, right?"

He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her cheek. Softly, "Yeah, I know. Just after two years on top of ten-"

"Shhh. Never anyone but you."

Rigsby, San Francisco, Several Days Later

Wayne Rigsby took a bite of his taco and pressed speed dial.

"Wayne?"*

"Hey, Grace, I can't contact Ardiles. His office hasn't heard from him since Friday. Can't exactly call the guy and tell him his cellphone's been bugged. Can you ping* it, try and figure out where he is?"

"Sure thing." After a moment, "Yeah, got it." She texted him the address. "Hey, are you gonna be home for dinner?"*

"Uh, yeah, sure."*

"Wait. Are you at that dirty taco truck?"* She sighed. "I can literally hear you trying to think up an excuse."*

"No, that's the sound of me eating a taco. Salad tonight, I promise."*

"I love you."*

"Bye."*

The address was in a deserted, rundown neighborhood. Rigsby parked, got out and uneasily scanned the area. What the hell's a high priced lawyer doing around here? The front entry was boarded up like several others on the block so he made his way around the side alley. The bright sunlight was cut off by high walls on both sides. A cold bead of sweat snaked down his spine at the lack of partner and back-up. He drew his piece and silently made his way along one wall, avoiding broken beer bottles, needles, and random trash. Back plastered against the wall, he reached over and tested the knob of the only door into the building. He startled as it unlatched. Released, it slowly swung open revealing a windowless, black interior.

Rigsby quickly stepped through, back against the inside wall for safety. Blood pounded in his ears. He took a moment to calm and listen intently, tuning out sounds of distant traffic. The smell of blood and crap mingled with dank mildew, drawn by the draft of the open door. Rigsby tossed a pen into the room, the clatter loud in the silence. No response. He fumbled fruitlessly for a light switch, then swept his arm around and found the pull string for a bare bulb. Light flared, he blinked. A body bloody and still was tied to a chair.

"Ardiles! Damn!" Rigsby took three long strides, felt for a pulse and dialed 9-1-1. "Man stabbed at 3920 S. 24th Street. Bad shape, hurry." He set his cell down, distractedly answering the dispatcher's questions as he tried to stem the bleeding with his wadded up jacket.

Jane's Apartment, Austin

The warble startled them from sound sleep. Lisbon blearily felt around the nightstand, swore and tossed aside her regular cell. She roughly pulled open the drawer to get the burner phone.

"Yeah?" throat dry, voice rough. Jane turned on a lamp and she sat up, switching the phone to speaker. "Slow down, say again."

Van Pelt repeated more slowly, "All of us are on the line." They had stopped using names, even on the burner phones. "The client you referred – his phone was bugged. He was almost killed."

"What?!"

Rigsby replied. "Didn't answer his calls, wasn't at the office. Tracked him through his cell phone. He was tortured and left to die in a bad area of the city."

Alert now Jane asked, "Why, who did it?"

"He was fuzzy after surgery but gave us something. Two men abducted and tortured him. Wore masks, so no ID. Guys, they tortured him for the location of the drive."

"Damn," Cho spoke for the first time.

Mouth dry, Lisbon asked, "Will he make it?"

Rigsby answered. "Lost a few feet of gut, maybe one eye. We were lucky to get any info from him. If he makes it through the next day or two doc said he'll recover."

Almost an afterthought, "Oh – I've got another name for you, too."

Abbott's Office, Austin FBI

Abbott glowered as Cho knocked and entered, trailed by Lisbon and Jane.

"We don't have a meeting scheduled."

"Boss, Lira thought you might spare five minutes. Please?" Cho opened.

Expressionless, he waved them to sit. "Well?"

Jane took lead this time. "We figured out another name. Give us a crack at convincing you."

Irritation evenly balanced desire for that name. "Go ahead."

Lisbon's phone vibrated with an incoming text. Jane glanced at her then continued speaking to Abbott. "Waller tipped Davenport off. We believe there are more moles serving Blake leaders who are hiding in plain sight. Blake has regrouped and is active again."

"Evidence? Or am I supposed to take it on faith?"

Jane held him with an unwavering gaze. "The brass pressured you to fetch me. Why? Why would Washington give a damn about a controversial consultant from a corrupt state bureau? I was nearly run over soon after I got out of detention. I believe it was Blake. Ardiles, a former California ADA, had his cell phone bugged. He was nearly killed yesterday after being tortured for information about a list of Blake leaders. Blake suspects Bertram kept a list and will do anything to get it. Blake is going after anyone who might have it."

Without expression, "Give me the name. And the hospital Ardiles is in."

Lisbon leaned forward, holding out her cell phone. "Too late." She read the glowing two-word text: "'He died.'"

"Give me the name. If this one pans out, we'll talk." Cho handed him a typewritten name and they filed out.