Chapter 24 - Complications
Chain Motel, North Texas
Lisbon stretched, awake but not happy about it. She snuggled deeper under the sheets until yesterday's events crashed into her thoughts and snapped her eyes open. She gasped at the stranger and grabbed her gun.
Startled he turned, "Lisbon?" and shrank from the gun.
She returned the gun to the nightstand and shoved back to sit up. "Dammit, Jane, you scared the hell out of me."
Recovering, "Good morning to you too." He handed her a Styrofoam cup from which rose the enticing scent of coffee. She popped off the lid and greedily slurped. At her critical examination he spread his hands and turned in a circle.
"Transformation complete."
"Geez, didn't even recognize you."
"Rather the point," he smiled, unloading food from a paper bag.
Less thrilled than he apparently was, she grimaced. "You buzz cut your hair."
Now seated at the small table, "Also dyed it." Her eyes were drawn to the fawn-brown color of the bare quarter-inch remaining length. Eyebrows were the same color. The hair on his arms and legs was lighter but that would pass for the work of the sun on his somehow perpetually tanned body.
She used the bathroom, returned and joined him at the tiny table. Jane was digging into a clamshell containing a double order of scrambled eggs. Thoughts flicked to last night, his shock, skipping dinner, tuning out. She eyed him suspiciously. This is too easy. She asked, "Any good?" reaching for the pancakes.
"Good enough. On the road the consistency of chains is a blessing." He frowned as he sipped the tea. "Except for the crime served in this cup."
She snorted and got up. "I know you packed tea." He brightened as an electric kettle and cup and saucer appeared from behind her suitcase.
"I knew there was a reason I–" his voice hitched, barely noticeable except she did notice, "–love you, woman."
Back turned to him, she frowned. Something happened in that puzzle palace called a brain. Definitely gotta find out. Her expression was neutral when she returned to her breakfast.
Jane silently went through his tea-making ritual, so happy to have real tea he didn't complain about the lack of milk. He sipped with eyes closed in bliss then ventured, "How do you feel about short blond hair?" smirking when she sprayed coffee on her pancake.
"For me?" she sputtered. "It's great – on you!"
He leaned forward. "Your hair is a major defining feature. An unaffordable luxury right now." He raised his eyebrows in silent entreaty as he dipped his head to catch her gaze.
She chewed a bite to stall. "You're serious?"
"Afraid so."
She grimaced. "Okay. Don't know how good a cut I can give myself."
"Oh, I'll cut it. Dye it too."
"Since when?"
"Sam let me help as a kid. You learn a lot about hair from a black woman."
She sighed, resigned to her hair's fate. "You damn well better know what you're doing."
He grinned, eyes twinkling in amusement, "Relax. It grows back."
She grumbled while cleaning up from breakfast, "A month for you. A year for me."
Two hours later Lisbon looked at her reflection and ruffled her hair. The dark blonde color wasn't bad and though she'd never admit it, the inch long cut styled into soft spikes with mousse was both edgy and attractive. "It's different all right." Jane handed her ear cuffs and a fake pierced lip ring. She turned to face him, "You're kidding."
"Want you to look as far from 'cop' as possible." Jane fished three rings from a pocket and put them on the counter. She looked at him without saying anything. Neutrally, "Need to sell us as a couple on vacation." He picked up his wedding band and slid it on his ring finger. It was the first time since they'd become a couple. His face was expressionless.
He didn't offer to put the rings on her finger. She wasn't the type to be overwhelmed by symbolism, but it was unsettling. A decade. Two years exiled. And now when we – oh crap, just do it, Teresa. She swallowed, picked them up and put them on.
Faintly apologetic, Jane explained, "Our biggest risk is that they're looking for a man and a woman traveling together. Everyone gets impressions, 'reads' people–" he gave her a cocky grin, "just not as well as I do. Helps them believe our cover story."
Without commenting she unlatched the chain and put her cross in her pocket – another unnecessary identifying detail. "I get it. C'mon. Let's get on the road." She dressed in a patterned tee, shorts, flip-flops and the sunhat he liked. He looked the part of vacationing husband in a baseball cap, tee, cargo shorts and sandals. Both donned plain-glass sunglasses that darkened in strong light. The hair clippings and blood-stained pants found their way into a store dumpster. The morning was well along by the time they left, but the disguise was worth a few hours' delay.
Lisbon and Jane, Driving North
Lisbon drove first. The day was bright and yesterday's rain reduced the humidity. A call came in on her burner phone a half-hour into the drive and she put it on speaker.
"Hey."
"–Morning."
"–Hi."
Cho was relieved to hear Jane this time. "Quiet night at the hospital, no change." Cho had called Rigsby first. "The dad was killed this morning." Wylie's call woke him with the news.
"How?"
"Man claiming to be his attorney met with him. He was found dead in detention an hour later. Poison."
"These people know their way around drugs," Jane offered. "Professionals, not cult members."
"Makes sense. Argued your case with the agent handling the investigation. Told him the crime scene doesn't square with the dad's statement. And you have no motive."
"And?" Lisbon needed to hear it.
"Didn't buy it. Thinks you're with the conspiracy, especially since you ran."
"There's that." Jane said slowly, "We need the man you're guarding back in this game."
"I know. My old partner flew in to help. –Your plans?"
"Unchanged," answered Jane. "Hope to bluff our way in tomorrow."
"Any orders?"
Lisbon replied, "Stick with it and be careful. Say 'hi' for us."
"I'll call if anything changes." Cho disconnected.
They exchanged glances.
Lisbon slowly, "Blake is eliminating loose ends. No matter what."
Jane nodded. "Despite running scared, despite all the dead bodies, they're confident they can remain hidden."
"Bad sign. The FBI won't solve this going by the book if the leads keep ending up dead. We need a game-changer."
"Planning on one."
She glanced away from the road at him. Determined. Confident. "Care to share?"
He shook his head. "Won't know till we get there. I predict a fascinating conversation with Brother Cooper," mocking the "Visualize family" affectation.
Brackenridge Hospital, Austin
Rigsby smothered a yawn as he marked his fifth hour of watching Abbott's door, guarded by an equally bored FBI agent. The shift change had been followed by the bustle of nurses making their morning rounds to check on patients and take vitals. Patient breakfast trays were delivered in tall insulated carts. Trays were distributed and the smell of food made his stomach rumble. Cho would relieve him soon and he looked forward to breakfast. The elevator doors swished open to the welcome sight of his former partner. He rose to meet Cho.
An orderly clad in baggy, pastel-colored tunic and pants carried a tray to Abbott's door and paused to talk with the agent. The orderly's body blocked the agent from view. The man then entered with the tray. Rigsby glimpsed a still-unconscious Abbott as he walked past the self-closing door. The FBI agent was seated with his head lolling back and eyes closed. Food? When he's out? The clues fell into place. Shit!
Rigsby pivoted and shook the agent's shoulder. The agent fell off to the side, unconscious and limp. Rigsby pulled his gun and grabbed the doorknob. He overbalanced as the orderly pulled open the door. The man kicked Rigsby's feet from under him and rushed past with a vicious jab to the solar plexus.
Cho shouted, "Need help!" and took chase. Then, "Stop or I'll shoot!" Damn, too crowded! A nurse dodged the wrong way and they fell in a tangle. Cho scrambled up, saw the closing stairwell door and followed.
Rigsby yelled for help as Abbott's heart monitor flatlined. He was crowded back against the windows as the room suddenly filled with white figures and noise. He saw a syringe under the visitor's chair, picked it up with a handkerchief, and sniffed. Almond!
Loudly, "Check for cyanide! He's been poisoned."
The doctor rattled off orders. A crash cart arrived and Rigsby was shoved out the door to make room, almost tripping over more doctors working on the fallen agent. The agent had been stabbed. A stiletto was slipped up under the ribs to pierce his heart, killing him instantly. Leaving the knife in place prevented most bleeding, giving the assassin time to go after Abbott before alarm was raised. Doctors and nurses reluctantly stood and stepped back. The agent was beyond help in this world.
Cho returned after losing his quarry. On his cell phone, "Abbott was just attacked at the hospital ... Agent's dead. ... Start a search, dammit! ... By Abbott's room." He ended the call and slammed his open hand against the wall in frustration.
Hospital security charged up. One assumed guard duty for Abbott while two others frisked Cho and Rigsby and took their weapons. They were cuffed and herded into an empty room. They'd be detained till the FBI arrived to sort it out.
Lisbon and Jane, Driving North
The sun was high and heat waves shimmered from the pavement. Lisbon idly watched as they ate up miles and miles of flat landscape. Sere brown fields were sporadically relieved by green trees around houses. Sinuous ribbons of green indicated rivers and streams that flowed even in the height of summer. Only a fraction of her attention was on the scenery. What the hell happened yesterday? Maybe if I get him talking...
"There's a reason it's called the Great Plains," Jane said, reading her superficial thought while giving most of his attention to driving.
Lisbon glanced at him, his changed appearance still jarring. She was letting him share driving the 1,300 miles to the South Dakota state pen in Sioux Falls. ID requirements and security put flying out of the question. "Not much to look at." She shifted toward him, relieving muscles too long in one position. "How did you know Fischer's father was Blake?"
"Strongly suspected," he corrected. "Too many coincidences."
"Such as?"
"Began with detention. Didn't make sense that rigid, by-the-book Kim would illegally drug me. Not unless someone she respects encouraged her and supplied the drugs. Cho said her father was CIA."
"That's quite a leap to a Blake connection," she murmured.
"Crooked is crooked," he argued a little sheepishly, thinking of how it applied – used to apply – to him. "Criminal acts upped the odds he was Blake."
"And?"
"Finding the mole Waller seemed too easy. Once again, Kim is in the middle of it. Blake would be smart to sacrifice one mole to protect a more valuable one. Quiñones's murder proved there was second, someone close to Abbott who would know about the arrest. Blake planned the hit and paid off that retired cop just hours after the arrest. –Then Abbott's old friend Don Fischer just happened to be in town the same day? And wanted to have dinner? Suspicious."
"Yet Kim Fischer isn't Blake?"
"Her father would get useful information just from her travel schedule. Cities Abbott would be working, maybe the odd detail she let slip. I never read that she was-" he took a deep breath, "is Blake."
"How'd they know we'd try to rescue Abbott? And frame us?"
He snorted. "I should have seen it coming. I asked Abbott's admin Lira where he was so I could give him the drive. She told me Abbott was dining with Fischer. She must have called to let Abbott know I was coming. Abbott mentions us – or me. Don Fischer alerts his Blake partner to frame us at Abbott's house."
"I'll give 'em quick on their feet."
"Professionals."
She frowned at a sudden thought. "Why was Kim there if she's not Blake?"
"Bad luck." Her bloody body flashed in his mind's eye. "Very bad luck. Maybe Lira mentioned the dinner and she decided to tag along, see her dad."
"What do you think happened before we got there?"
Jane delayed answering as a detour claimed more attention. Distracted, "What do you think?"
Lisbon closed her eyes to better remember the scene. "Abbott was cuffed. By Don Fischer or the accomplice. If it was staged, whoever shot Abbott and Kim did it with the empty Glock left behind." She grimaced in disgust. "You think her father shot her?"
Jane spared a glance away from the road. "Hope not. Couldn't tell without reading him and now he's dead."
Grimly, "Assume not. Accomplice goes to shoot Abbott but ... Kim tries to stop him, spoils his aim. He shoots her. Don Fischer is bashed over the head, don't know if it's before or after Kim was shot. Don Fischer isn't seriously injured. Wakes up and frames us." She looked at Jane, green eyes wide. "What else can he do? Frame us. Hope his accomplice frees him by posing as his attorney. Then disappear."
Jane finished. "Only the second man poisons him, ties up another loose end. –There's no downside for Blake. You and I are under suspicion unless Abbott or Kim clears us."
"Jane, the forensic evidence will contradict Don Fischer's claims. Cho already pointed that out."
He shook his head, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "Doesn't matter. Unless we're cleared, no one will let us anywhere near the Blake case or take us seriously."
She exhaled and slumped against the seatbelt. "So we're back to Abbott."
"Or Kim."
"Crap."
They rode in silence for ten minutes. As they approached a city, Jane exited the interstate to take back roads, thankful that even burner phones included GPS. Any checkpoints would be set up near populated areas.
FBI, Austin
Acting Supervising Agent Stevenson sat silently staring at Cho. It had been fifteen minutes and the Asian agent showed no sign of discomfort. –Hell, no sign of anything.
Stevenson spoke first. "Agent Cho, why were you were at the hospital when Agent Abbott was attacked? And Agent Tremain murdered?"
"Glad Abbott survived."
Stevenson blinked. Point to him for picking that up. "Why were you there?"
"Guarding Abbott."
"You're suspended. Two of your team members are implicated in wounding Agents Abbott and Fischer yesterday. Lisbon's prints are on the gun that shot them. That suggests a different reason."
Calmly, "Other forensic evidence refutes Fischer's-"
"-Donald Fischer?"
"-statement." Cho nodded. "My team was framed."
"Why? Who?"
"Blake Association."
"Why would Blake care?"
"The CBI team I worked for exposed Blake."
"Tell me your account of what happened. Start when you went to the hospital."
"I started guarding Abbott's room last night just after 10 p.m. Agent Tremain frisked me. Had me stay 20 feet away."
"Hospital security found a weapon on you."
"I later brought my personal firearm to stop anyone who might attack Abbott."
"Where does Wayne Rigsby come into the picture?"
"He's my partner from the CBI. Flew in from California to help. He relieved me at about 4 a.m. I was about to relieve him when Rigsby realized an orderly was going to kill Abbott."
"Then?"
"The orderly ran out of Abbott's room. I pursued him but lost him in the stairwell. After, I reported the attack and requested a search for the assassin."
"What were your prints doing on the knife that killed Tremain?"
Cho looked at him a moment. "That's incorrect. My prints weren't on a knife. I had nothing to do with Tremain's death."
"How did Rigsby realize there was an attack?"
"Ask him."
"You don't know but acted on his say so?"
"He was my partner for ten years. Our team exposed Blake. Abbott spent months investigating and cleared us all."
Stevenson leaned forward. "I don't care if the pope blessed you. The involvement of you, your team, and now a former partner in this is highly suspicious. You remain suspended pending the investigation. Do not leave Austin."
"How's Abbott?"
"That's confidential. Stay away from this case."
Cho stood. "My firearm?"
Stevenson's lips tightened. "In Evidence till this case is resolved. Dismissed." Stevenson rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he watched Cho retrieve his personal effects and leave. This team is either guilty as hell or running their own Blake investigation. Wish I knew which.
Cho found Rigsby waiting outside the FBI entrance.
"Now what?"
"Get our cars. Get new phones. Find out what's going on."
"I need to eat, man. Was starving four hours ago."
A half hour later they were seated on the patio of a nearby restaurant. Cho finally placed his call.
"Wylie, can you take a break outside?" It was close enough to lunchtime so ducking out wouldn't be suspicious.
A few minutes later Wylie called back on his burner cell. Cho put it on speaker.
"What's your status?"
"Acting SA has me doing scut work. Nothing connected to the attacks, though."
"What do you know?"
Wylie had heard about the attack at Abbott's house and the attack this morning. Cho filled in the details.
"What's his condition?"
"You guys saved his life. Rumor has it he was poisoned but they treated him in time thanks to you."
"He'll make it?
"Yeah. He got a concussion when a bullet grazed his head yesterday but they think that'll be okay. The poisoning thing set him back. They've got him sedated."
"Our female colleague?"
"Bad shape. Think she'll make it, but no one's a hundred percent on that. –Was her dad really a – uh, bad guy?"
"Looks like it. What about security?"
"Two attacks in two days. Never saw the bureau in such high gear. Two guards each, 24-7. Room numbers are secret. The Acting SA is doing an over-kill – sorry, I uh–"
"Yeah. –Any progress on your other project?"
"Got another name."
"Sit on it. Need to hope they recover. Hope the rest of our team gets somewhere with the other idea."
"Anything I can do?"
"See what you can find out about her dad. May not be much, but worth checking. Cover your tracks. Remember you might be targeted."
Wylie swallowed audibly. "Will do. –Um, glad you saved him."
"Later."
Cho placed his next call to Lisbon.
"Boss, we've got a problem..."