Chapter 26 - Working Outside the Box

Omaha, NE

Lisbon looked in the mirror with approval. The short blonde hair was still a shock. (Glimpses of herself in shiny surfaces repeatedly surprised her. Jane, of course, laughed.) But today she had to look like a cop, an FBI agent and so was back to normal work clothes with her badge and gun. No glasses, no rings or funky jewelry. Brushed back with a little mousse worked in, her hair merely looked like the soft, arched bristles of an ornamental grass. If anything, she looked vaguely butch – definitely feeding a stereotype, but a useful one for today. Jane, on the other hand, was troubled. Despite the buzz cut and clunky glasses, his looks and expensive suit shouted male model posing as an agent. She bit the inside of her cheek to avoid laughing out loud. She enjoyed his disgruntled expression, just didn't want to rub it in.

Unconscious of her amusement Jane grimaced and said, "Won't cut it, Lisbon. We'll need to stop at a men's store, car rental, and home improvement place in Sioux Falls."

Biting back a grin she looked at him critically, "Guess cop really isn't your calling. Funny – if it wasn't important." He just grunted.

They were on their way by nine after breakfast in the hotel restaurant. They'd arrive around noon.

Cho, Austin, TX

It was mid-morning. After dropping Wylie off at the FBI, Cho went to his apartment to read the forensics report Wylie electronically pilfered for him, but was interrupted by a burner call. Jane.

"Hey. ... Hope it goes well. ... I can do that. ... Got it. If you call, I'll assume it's for verification. ... I'll find out. ... Later. Good luck." After disconnecting Cho anonymously called the Austin FBI and recorded the snippets needed. He was all set if Jane called.

Cho returned to the report. Other than Lisbon's prints on that gun, he'd have no trouble shredding the theory that Lisbon and Jane attacked Abbott. The other evidence just didn't fit: Location of shell casings, bullets from two other weapons – Lisbon's service piece and an as-yet undiscovered gun, bullet holes in the SUV and Citroen (which had been discovered in the search, of course). Plus someone – he guessed Jane – had tried to staunch Kim's bleeding. It was the only reason she was alive when the ambulance arrived.

Cho's respect for Kim Fischer plunged after her despicable abuse of a detainee (never mind that the detainee was his friend). He felt sorry for her anyway. She would likely survive only to face a dead father who increasingly looked like an accomplice to attempted murder. The detention debacle, likely exploitation for info on the Blake case, and then attempted murder added up to a shattering betrayal by her father. Cho no more believed in convenient coincidences than Jane. Her father was just too conveniently involved in too many ways. If the FBI grapevine was right, she had no one else. Her secondary emergency contact (since the first, her father, was dead) was an elderly aunt who was too frail to travel to Austin. Cho's initial take on Kim was a straight, ambitious cop. Her fate was a pity and a caution about misplaced trust.

His cell vibrated. Sacramento area code. Not Jane. "Cho." He answered and put it on speaker so he could continue skimming the report.

"Agent Cho, this is Madeline Hightower, CIB."

He dropped the report. "Yes, Ma'am?"

"Agent Abbott is unavailable, so I'm passing this along to you." She paused a moment. "J.J. LaRoche and I have each been attacked, probably by Blake." He could hear her 'tsk' of disgust, "–And a Red John disciple or copycat just murdered a woman in San Francisco."

"Director Hightower, you need to know I'm suspended pending investigation into the attack on Abbott."

Brusquely, "I've seen the news, Agent. This is a professional courtesy for people I trust, not an official contact. The Blake mess is heating up, more dangerous than ever."

"What do you need from me?"

"Warn anyone who might be targeted."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She paused until he wondered if she'd hung up. "I'm glad your ... group is tackling this. There's a lot more to be done, Agent."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Be safe." She disconnected.

Cho used the burner to call the Rigsby's and Lisbon. He also called Wylie and asked him to pass along word to Abbott's Blake team.

They needed a break. Soon.

Brackenridge Hospital, Austin

"...test results came back normal, Agent Abbott–"

"–Doctor, do you expect long term effects from the-" Lena Abbott's voice caught, "cyanide poisoning?"

"No. If the patient survives without undue damage from oxygen deprivation, there are usually no lasting effects." He waited for any further questions about the poisoning, then turned back to his patient. "You are also recovering from a serious concussion. Absolutely no strenuous physical activity. Relax, avoid physical or mental stress, get plenty of sleep, and no driving till all symptoms are gone. If pain or symptoms worsen, immediately see a doctor. Here is a prescription for pain relief. –Questions?"

"–Thank you."

And Lena's, "–We appreciate it so much."

"You're welcome." The doctor shook their proffered hands and left.

Abbott slowly straightened, wavering after losing the steadying support of the bed. His wife grasped his upper arm. He took a breath and shifted his stance for greater stability. She could see the mantle of responsibility settle on his broad shoulders. He took her hand from his arm, gave a gentle squeeze, and let go. The suit she brought him was immaculate and a smaller, dark beige bandage had replaced the white gauze covering his head wound. He'd been briefed by Acting SA Stevenson that morning and made it clear he was returning to duty immediately, though he would still need to be cleared for field work. Time to resume his role, his responsibilities.

Dennis Abbott stepped out of the hospital room every inch the FBI agent in charge. The guarding agents snapped to attention.

The senior guard stepped forward, "Orders, Sir?"

"I need a lift to the bureau. Main entrance in twenty minutes." Turning to the other agent, "Johnson, you're guarding my wife, starting now. Organize shift coverage with Stevenson."

"Yes, Sir," they chorused.

Abbott stopped briefly at the nursing station for a question then made his way to the elevator.

"Dennis?" Lena asked.

"Better if I do this myself."

"I'll send flowers to her room." Her husband nodded appreciatively. "Is it wise going into the office?"

A corner of his mouth quirked. "Probably not," he rumbled. "But the sooner I get control of this situation the better."

She kissed his cheek. Softly, "Try to take it easy, Babe. Let me know when you'll be coming home." She and Johnson took the next elevator down.

Dennis Abbott stepped off the elevator and headed for the door guarded by two of his agents. Surprise showed in their eyes for a second before they greeted him. He nodded and waved them to resume their posts. Abbott knocked softly and entered.

The woman lay pale and still, enmeshed in a tangle of tubes and wires leading from under the sheet. Her face was turned toward the window, away from anyone who entered.

Quietly, "Kimmie. Wanted to see how you're doing." She jerked around in surprise, wincing from pain. Her tongue nervously wet her lips.

"Dennis?"

He moved to her bedside and pulled up a chair. "How are you?"

"Fine, Sir." Her shakiness belied the words.

He took her hand and squeezed gently. Gruffly, "You've been through hell. Your duty is to rest now, let your body heal." He nodded encouragingly, "I hear you'll make a full recovery."

"Yeah." Her voice was ashes, cold and gray. "Full."

He breathed deeply and broached the reason he came. "You know – about your father, I mean?"

Expressionlessly, "He was killed in holding. Probably the same bastard who attacked you."

"Who attacked us," he corrected. "I am sorry, Kimmie."

They sat a while in silence. She finally ventured in a near whisper, "How could I be so stupid? Dad – he lied to me, pumped me for information about the Blake investigation." She half rose till pain shoved her back down, "He set you up to be killed!"

Abbott exhaled slowly, regarding her soberly. "Those are his sins, Kim. You saved my life by spoiling his partner's aim."

Anguished, "I should have known!"

Flatly. "How?" Sternly, "I was fooled too. Your dad did good things, heroic things when we worked together 20 years ago. I don't know what happened. Not sure we'll ever know." More gently, "Try to remember the man he was. And know that you are a good agent. You will get past this." After more silence, "I'll help you. You're not alone, Kimmie."

She looked away again and choked out, "Thanks, Dennis. I – I –" She stopped.

He gave her hand a pat and rose. "Rest and heal, Kim. Lena or I will be by until you're out of here. Then you stay with us till you're back on your feet." He stood straighter and said formally, "Thank you for saving my life, Agent Fischer."

She could only nod, staving off tears till the door closed quietly behind him.

Sioux Falls, SD

Lisbon and Jane stepped out of a men's store in Sioux Falls. Jane wore his purchases. The middling quality jacket and pants – no vest – were a trifle baggy rather than closely fitted. The black had olive undertones that subtly clashed with his complexion. The solid navy tie looked no different than millions of low-end polyester swaths eagerly gifted by kids at Christmas or reluctantly bought by men for work. Lisbon was impressed. The clothes managed the feat of making Jane look almost ordinary, mildly handsome rather than drop dead gorgeous. Jane frowned at the new black lace-ups that completed his transformation.

"Next stop, home improvement store."

"For?"

"Sandpaper."

Fifteen minutes later Jane used 400-grit sandpaper to subtly age his suit. He also lightly scuffed the shiny shoes on the asphalt pavement.

"I need your driver's license and FBI ID."

"Why?"

"Someone might remember our names from the BOLO." He took her ID and curled the corners and lightly rubbed the center with sandpaper. The faintly abraded plastic surface looked well-worn and obscured much of the detail of her photo and name. "Voila! You can now sign in as 'Tessia Lindon.' Fortunately new hairstyles are common among women." After handing hers back, he used the same technique on his own. "And I, 'Patrick Lane,' recently started wearing glasses and got a haircut."

She looked dubious. "Really think this'll work?"

"By itself, no. But, with boldness, Cho's help, and distractions as needed - of course. Prison guards are far more focused on people breaking out than getting in."

They then rented a black SUV, justified by Jane's explanation that all details had to fit: The SUV suited the image of two FBI employees who had flown in to interview a prisoner as part of a national security investigation.

Lisbon and Jane arrived at the century-old state prison in Sioux Falls shortly after lunch. A bored, middle-aged guard manning the outer office barely looked up.

"State your name and business and sign in." He shoved a clipboard and pen toward them through a slot in the bulletproof Lexan barrier.

"Lindon and Lane, FBI. We're here to meet with inmate Jason Cooper." After the guard glanced at badge and ID's, they signed in with their fake names. Wylie had gotten them Cooper's inmate number.

Looking up with a frown. "Paperwork?"

A family photo on his desk showed three kids, including a 20-something woman who was likely his daughter.

Jane answered, equally bored. "Our administrative assistant sent it last week." With fake irritation, he said to Lisbon, "If that intern screwed up again, it'll be her job."

After rifling through a stack of forms the guard said, "Don't have it."

Jane exhaled in annoyance, jaw clenched. "We just spent three hours on a plane for this meeting. How 'bout a break? –The Austin FBI will vouch for us." He pulled his cell phone out and keyed in the number. He left it on speaker.

The guard's eyes flicked to his family photo, then accepted the phone. "This is irregular, but I'll allow it if I get verification. So long as your office faxes the paperwork today."

A call from Jane's burner cell came in to Cho and Cho started the first recording. A female voice responded, "FBI, Austin office. How may I help you?"

"I need to verify that two employees from your office are at the South Dakota state penitentiary to interview inmate Jason Cooper."

Cho played the second recording. "Let me direct your call. One moment please."

Cho spoke next. "This is Supervising Agent Abbott."

"I have two of your agents here to meet with an inmate, but no paperwork. Can you confirm?"

"Agent Lindon and Mr. Lane are assigned to interrogate Jason Cooper for a national security matter. I'll have the paperwork faxed to you shortly. What's your fax number?" If push came to shove, Cho would fax paperwork Wylie had forged for him. In for a penny...

The guard waved Jane and Lisbon into the next room through a locked door. Lisbon turned in her weapon and both were searched for contraband. Jane said, "This is a national security matter. We'll need a secure room, no observers unless they have security clearance, no audio or video recording."

The guard scratched his neck. "Regular attorney interview room is soundproof and secure. Guard has to be posted outside, though."

"That will be fine," Lisbon responded.

Ten minutes later they were ushered into a 10' x 10' room with a table and chairs bolted to the floor. A slight, balding man was already present, seated and cuffed to a chair. "Inmate 37-954, Jason Cooper. Knock when you're done." The guard closed and locked the door. Lisbon and Jane sat opposite the prisoner.

Cooper's expression hardened into dislike. Dryly, "Patrick Jane and Agent Lisbon. You've been on the news."

"We're here to talk with you about the Blake Association."

"You got Leader Stiles caught up in an explosion. Your vendetta against Red John ruined everything. I have nothing to say."

Jane responded with an easy smile. "We have things to say to you, Brother Cooper." He let the silence stretch out, till he sensed curiosity. "We're helping the FBI track down Blake leaders. Blake now controls Visualize, doesn't it?"

"You're wasting my time."

"Perhaps it'll be worth your while." Jane leaned forward, arms crossed comfortably on the table. "With Bret and McAllister out of the picture, you took over Visualize. Six months later you were framed for embezzlement and Blake puppet Caleb Grainger took nominal control. Blake's been using Visualize members ever since to replace the foot soldiers the FBI's rounded up. You, Brother Cooper–"

"–Don't call me that!"

"–have a valuable asset. You can ID the Blake leaders, help the FBI arrest them."

Cooper looked balefully at Jane. "I am at quite a disadvantage." He raised his arm and jingled the handcuff. "Blake removes threats. Permanently."

Jane continued unperturbed. "You can't be indifferent to Blake seizing control, deviating from Bret's path. Help the FBI round up Blake leaders and you can regain control. We can protect you."

"Even if you eliminated Blake, got me a pardon, Blake stupidly involved Visualize in highly illegal, high risk ventures. Visualize is under investigation with arrest warrants out for the leadership."

Lisbon spoke, "Arms- and drug-dealing with terrorist organizations. Certainly off Bret's path of enlightened self-awareness."

Jane tried another tactic. "What would Bret Stiles want? What would be a credit to the organization he founded?"

Lisbon sensed sudden tension, excitement in Jane.

Without waiting for a reply, Jane said eagerly, "But perhaps Bret should speak for himself? –That's it, he's still very much in this 'plane of existence,' isn't he?" Jane sat back with a blinding smile, delighted with his discovery.

Cooper sat quietly, eyes down, hands folded in front of him. He finally looked up. "You're wanted by the authorities. Even if your guess were correct, you're hardly able to provide anything of value."

"With due respect, Brother Cooper, I believe your esteemed leader would be the best judge." Jane leaned forward avidly, "Put us in contact."

A long moment later, "Give me a number to call."

Lisbon gave him Cho's regular cell phone number. "This is Agent Cho's number, one of my former agents now with the FBI. We don't know if Blake has it tapped."

Cooper licked his lips. "Would this Cho know his voice?"

"Yes."

"If there's any interest in contact, he'll get a call in the next day or two."

Jane smiled widely. "A pleasure seeing you again, Brother Cooper." Cooper gave him a long-suffering glance. They left without shaking hands.