Chapter 30: Deal with the Devil

FBI Headquarters, Washington, DC

"The Deputy Director will see you. You have 15 minutes," the aide said as he ushered Abbott into an imposing but sober office.

Abbott respectfully stood a few paces from the desk until Deputy Director Robertson looked up. Setting a file aside, "Dennis," waving him to sit, "good to see you've recovered. What's on your mind?"

"Visualize." Abbott took a breath and baldly laid it out. "I want to go after the organization, not just the leaders. Visualize deals with terrorists and helped cover up murders."

Robertson straightened and eyed him curiously. "What changed?"

"Visualize is corrupt, criminal, and dangerous. We need to take apart the organization as well as its leaders."

Robertson tapped a pen on his desk. After a moment, "You told me Blake infiltrated Visualize. Nailing them is challenge enough. What do you have that will stick against the organization?"

"Some notes and payoffs to known hit men were discovered connected to several murders shortly after Visualize was formed. That plus the terrorist angle speaks to the overall organization. We can squeeze Jason Cooper, Bret Stiles's former second in command, to ID Blake leaders, corroborate the terrorism connection and possibly give us more on the murders."

Surprised, "A plea bargain wasn't offered when he was arrested?"

"Turned it down. A couple of years in prison should give him reason to reconsider."

Robertson echoed, "'Maybe.'" His eyes narrowed. "A few weeks ago I approved a parallel effort with that CBI consultant you retrieved. What happened there?"

Abbott subtly stiffened. "Cho's team determined Blake took over Visualize and verified Cooper can ID the leaders."

Robertson leaned back. "And yesterday's failed bust?"

Abbott blinked and swallowed. Blind sided. "A meet was set up with Bret Stiles, who didn't die two years ago as reported. Turned out he wasn't in the limo sent to pick them up."

Robertson exhaled. "You wanted to squeeze Stiles himself, but failed to arrest him. Where is Stiles?"

Grudgingly, "Probably an embassy."

"Untouchable then." Ticks from an old fashioned clock measured out the thick silence. "You have nothing solid, Abbott. You hope Cooper can corroborate the evidence. Maybe he'll cooperate. You try and fail to get Stiles. And taking down an organization – a religious organization of which several Congressmen are members – is more than a stretch–"

"–Terrorist links and coverup for murders by Stiles!" Abbott pressed urgently.

"Request denied. Come back with a plan that will work. And I want the details on any evidence justifying going after Visualize."

A muscle jumped in Abbott's jaw. "Yes, sir." Abbott left, swallowing his disappointment. The Blake assassin who attacked the Van Pelt household was out of surgery. He'd fly to Austin and see what he could get out of him. Then he'd have to decide what to do about Cho's approach.

Morning, Hilton Hotel, Washington, DC

Lisbon nudged the inert lump on the bed.

"Hey." She nudged him harder. "Hey, sleepyhead, Cho called. I'm in on a bust of the local Blake lowlifes."

Jane groaned and cracked one eye a slit.

"You turned in late. Anything wrong?"

Jane heavily rolled over and threw an arm over his eyes blocking the sun. He replied through a yawn, "Fine. Went drinking after poker."

She glanced at her watch. Curiosity won. "Why cozy up to Abbott's Blake team?"

He peeked under his arm with one eye. "Would you believe fun?"

"S-u-r-e. Your ideal poker buddies are cops now."

"What happens when we get the Blake names?"

Used to Jane answering a question with a question, "We dig up evidence, build cases and bust 'em."

Amused, "All four of us?"

"–Oh. You're making nice with the guys we'll have to work with."

He yawned again. "Thought it was a good idea, 'specially after I was a little disrespectful–" she snorted, "-during the Stiles bust." He couldn't help chuckling at the memory.

"Who won?"

He shrugged one shoulder diffidently, "No one. Friendly game."

"They'll hate you if they figure you threw hands."

Now sitting up and sleepily rubbing his face, "Didn't throw them. I, uh, just didn't read them or bother counting cards."

"Threw 'em," she repeated. "Hey, gotta go. Back this afternoon." She kissed him good-bye and left, grabbing a jacket on her way out in light of unseasonably cold weather.

As the door closed behind her, "Be careful," he reminded. Hoped.

Grand Junction, Iowa

Van Pelt entered the kitchen and tossed the empty bottle into the sink. She grabbed a burping cloth, hoisted her daughter to her shoulder, and gently bounced her while patting her daughter's back. Her forehead creased. Her normally even-tempered husband scowled as he finished a cell call.

"Hey, babe. What's wrong?"

Rigsby startled, noticing them for the first time. "Nothing, Grace." He walked over and offered Maddie a finger to play with.

She tilted her head, eyebrow raised. "Nope. Something. C'mon, tell me."

He sighed. "Picked up our answering service calls. Another canceled job." He faced her. "Holing up here is killing our company." Maddie's big, wet burp summoned a smile despite the worrisome topic.

"What do you want to do?" she asked, wiping their daughter's mouth and tossing the cloth.

He thumped the table in frustration. "Nothing we can do till Blake's over. We'd be sitting ducks if we go about our normal life in the city." He tenderly stroked his daughter's soft hair. There was no way in hell either of them would put the kids at risk. He hunched his shoulders remembering the attack a few days ago, the 'what if's' making his stomach roil.

Dismayed, "It could take months to round up the Blake leaders, Wayne. What-"

He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, the need to comfort his wife trumping business concerns. "Hey, it's okay. Our savings can cover the mortgage and bills for months." Deliberately positive, "Cho said the pressure will let up once the FBI starts taking down the leaders. Blake will be too busy saving their own skins to worry about us."

She turned in his arms. "When does Cho think they'll act?"

He shook his head. "Dunno. Soon as possible."

She shifted Maddie into his arms. "I'll go decrypt more of those bas–" Rigsby cleared his throat as Ben came in, "–Blake names."

Late Afternoon, Hilton Hotel, Washington, DC

Lisbon shucked her jacket and put her badge and gun in the hotel room safe. No Jane. She found him on the pool deck. Though the pool was closed and covered for the season, Adirondack lounge chairs invited guests to enjoy the fall colors in the extensive landscaping. Jane was the only one out, sitting in a double-lounger and bundled against the chill with a blanket from their room.

Lisbon got a carry-out coffee and tea from the nearby hotel café, then slipped out onto the deck. She stood a moment. Jane was holding a book but hadn't turned a page in five minutes. She handed him the covered tea when he noticed her.

"Wait," he said as she moved to sit. He spread the blanket out on the other half of the double-lounger. She sat on top and pulled the blanket edge over, cocooning. "Got your hair done," he noted, appreciating the return to her rich brown-black color.

Settling in, "Had time 'cause the raid was quick. Only a few had the tattoo and Delulio turned them over to locals for processing." At his raised eyebrow she explained, "Abbott wasn't around so Delulio took lead." She ran her hand over her newly dyed hair. "–Can't stand bleached blonde hair with dark roots."

He smirked. "What about brown hair with blonde roots?"

Lisbon answered with a peck. "Penny for 'em." She sipped her coffee.

He lifted the book. "Reading."

"You were not. What's up?"

He shrugged. "Want to do anything with the rest of the day?"

She shook her head, scrutinizing him closely. "You're in an odd mood." They were getting better at this. Blunt demands didn't work with Jane (or her, were she honest). But if she persisted low-key, he increasingly let more out, was more open.

"Meh. Tired of playing tourist."

She let it rest a few minutes. "What do you want?" Tourist. Hotel. Exile. Extended stay motel ... for ten years. Hm.

He looked at her fondly. "All I need is you."

"Not what I asked. What do you want?" When he didn't answer, "Jane - Patrick, you're allowed to want things too you know."

He turned to face her. "What do you want - longer term I mean?"

She tipped her head non-committally. "I'm happy being with you in Austin till you've worked off your five years."

"Then?"

"I, I'm not sure. I'm not sure about living in the apartment for five years. But if I–" at his glance, "–if we bought a place, that's a big commitment to Austin."

He sipped the tea. "Where else? California? Chicago?"

"Despite the Blake and CBI mess, California still feels more like home."

"With Rigsby and Van Pelt. What about Cho?"

She frowned. "I don't know. We're gonna miss someone no matter what city we choose. And given what an SOB Abbott is, I'm a little worried if we cut and run on Cho."

"Hey. No 'cut and run.' He's helping me–"

"–Us."

"–us, and I'll figure something out."

She waved her hand, brushing away the digression. Deep breath. "So what do you want, Patrick?" He tipped his head, ducking a straight answer. She waited him out.

Finally, "You're not the only one who misses the CBI. The team. I want that, some of that, back."

Forehead wrinkled, "I can't see everyone on one team again. But we could be in the same area, in our own place. Keep up with friends." Suddenly stricken. "Uh–I mean after you're free from the FBI."

"Yeah." He shifted, clearly done with the topic. "Something else is on your mind. What?"

"Forgot. We need to get with Cho. Everyone else was sent back to Austin. Abbott wants to meet with us tomorrow."

Restaurant, Washington, DC

Cho nixed Lisbon's suggestion of Korean, grumbling that he ate it all the time at his mom's not to mention the better selection on the west coast. They ended up eating the Moroccan food Jane craved despite Lisbon's dark mutterings about spoiled consultants. Having banned shop talk during the meal, they lingered over traditional mint tea and spiced Arabic coffee to discuss tomorrow's meeting.

"What's the play?"

Amused, "Ah, you always beat around the bush, Cho." He sipped the tea, uncertainty quickly replaced by appreciation.

"A lot riding on this," Cho said, the assassination attempt and hit to the Rigsby's business on his mind.

"Abbott met with whomever this morning. Was shot down–"

They exchanged glances. Lisbon bit, "–Which you know how?"

Jane rolled his eyes. "Abbott's completely predictable. He wants Blake. Now that he knows the great cult leader is still with us, he wants Stiles and Visualize as well. He's offended at Stiles getting away with murder, at Visualize dealing with terrorists without penalty."

Cho, under his breath, "Why shouldn't he be?"

"Spoken like a cop. Abbott wants to go after Blake, Stiles and Visualize, guns blazing. Got shot down because he doesn't have a solid plan. That's why he flew back to Austin and let Delulio handle today's raid." At their blank stares, "He's seeing what he can get out of the Blake assassin before talking to us. He doesn't like us, barely trusts us, and is uncomfortable with our approach."

Lisbon, dryly, "Comforting. Simple to convince him then?"

Jane grinned at their pessimism. "Absolutely. We're all he has left. –You need to follow my lead tomorrow. The only possible hitch is convincing Abbott that going after Stiles is a fool's errand."

Lisbon, doubtfully, "You're sure Stiles is innocent?"

Cheerfully, "More likely he's guilty. Fortunately that's not the issue. It's too coincidental for evidence to surface just when Stiles has recovered and is ready to rejoin the fray. Abbott will balk unless we can prove the evidence was faked."

Cho. "What if it wasn't?"

Serious. "I am one-hundred percent certain it's faked. Stiles had 40 years to cover up the one thing that could destroy him."

Cho frowned and exhaled. "I'll have Wylie get us the file tonight."

Lisbon suggested, "Have Wylie take a look too. He's sharp on using technology to fake things."

While Cho called, Lisbon raised another matter. "Jane, you asked Stiles to help Abbott get promoted. That bothers me."

"Go on."

"That could backfire. Abbott won't want help from Stiles."

Cho ended his call and chimed in. "Would feel like a bribe."

Unruffled, "Which is why we never tell Abbott."

"But then why–" She broke off and shook her head. "Never mind. Your wheels within wheels gives me a headache."

Jane just smiled.

They ended up at the Hilton to go over the file since Cho's FBI-paid lodgings weren't nearly as nice. Jane clearly paid to upgrade. Cho cut short wondering how Jane always seemed to have unlimited funds (but never change for vending machines or small bills for tips). It wasn't much of a mystery when Jane could make hundreds of thousands in a single night of poker. Cho blinked. That explained the previous night. Jane would only be playing poker with the agents to make them like him, like Cho's team. Makes sense.

It was 2 a.m. when Wylie called with his discovery.

Morning, FBI Field Office, Washington DC

The four filed into the same windowless conference room as last time. Abbott looked tired.

Abbott opened. The meeting with Stiles was aborted by my attempted bust. Will Stiles still deal?"

Cho answered. "Yes. Jane and Lisbon met with him two days ago."

Abbott's eyes widened, his only reaction. Lisbon was impressed.

Cho continued, unperturbed, "Despite the failed bust, you had authorized us to sound him out. We did."

Abbott mastered his reaction. "And?"

Jane answered. "Stiles will ID Blake leaders under certain conditions. He needs a letter from the AG giving him and Visualize immunity from prosecution for any past crimes, including abandoning the murder investigation. Jason Cooper gets a pardon." Lisbon exchanged puzzled glances with Cho. That wasn't the deal. Abbott didn't notice.

Abbott's expression settled into cold anger. "No."

Cho spoke up. "Boss, you have the chance to eradicate a nationwide, maybe international criminal organization before it gets entrenched. This is as big as blocking the mob from getting started."

Frustrated, "I don't care if it cures cancer. It's irrelevant if I can't get authorization."

Jane continued, "Stiles says there are 200 Blake leaders. Bertram's drive has 70 names. You will miss most of them unless you work with Stiles. Bertram's drive will keep Stiles honest. The deal is void if Stiles fails to ID anyone on that drive."

Bluntly, "I cannot overlook murder and terrorism ties, Jane." Interest piqued regardless, "Why would Stiles agree to that? What if he doesn't know everyone Bertram listed?"

Jane sipped his ubiquitous tea. "Stiles built a worldwide cult with millions of members in 40 years. Whatever you think of Stiles, he will know them all. Correct me if I'm wrong, law enforcement often overlooks crimes in return for even more useful information."

Abbott shook his head, still angry. "I don't care if he knows the Pope. I can't – don't want to – sell that to my superiors."

After a moment, "What would you need?"

"The 40 year immunity is unacceptable. And we have solid evidence that Stiles arranged murders. There's no statute of limitations on murder and we can use that to squeeze Stiles."

Lisbon spoke, "Except Stiles is staying in an embassy. He can run Visualize from anywhere in the world, so we really don't have any leverage."

"Jason Cooper is very much subject to our prison system. Maybe he'll cooperate."

More tea. "Jason Cooper is owned by Bret Stiles, body and soul." He leaned forward, closer to Abbott. "If we can prove the murder evidence was faked?"

Reluctantly, "Then there'd be something worth discussing."

"Can we have till this afternoon?" Jane looked slightly anxious. More exchanged looks.

Harshly. "Get back to me by 2 p.m. and I can still meet with the Deputy Director. Otherwise, we continue this in Austin. I'm not convinced Cooper's loyalty extends to a ten year prison term."

Cho responded, "Yes, sir."

Abbott left. Cho and Lisbon pinned Jane with their gaze.

Jane smiled. "Pleasant day for a stroll and a leisurely lunch."

Fogo de Chão Brazilian Steakhouse, Washington, DC

Lisbon, Cho and Jane compromised on Brazilian this time. The meat-dominated cuisine pleased the agents while the variety and new flavors appealed to Jane. They managed to find a table quiet enough to talk.

Cho gestured with a forkful of beef. "Jane, why piss off Abbott? That wasn't the deal."

Jane fastidiously took a bite of his seafood, closing his eyes in pleasure. Refocusing on the conversation, "We need more than a deal. It needs to be Abbott's deal."

Lisbon thought aloud. "Abbott will never let any of us meet with the Deputy Director. –He has to sell it." Jane smiled and nodded encouragingly. "If Abbott thinks he got additional concessions from Stiles, he feels better about it, has more 'ownership.'"

Cho added, "Counters his dislike for usand what we came up with." Another Jane nod.

Lisbon continued, "So Wylie's catch eliminates the potential murder charge. And Abbott thinks he bargained Stiles down to immunity just since McAllister's death." She winced at mentioning the serial killer. Jane seemed not to mind.

"Exactly." Mockingly, "The hard-nosed, hard-headed law enforcement agent prevails over the shady con man. He champions justice and civil order against the e-e-e-vil cult leader and corrupt Blake Association." Lisbon thumped Cho on the back as he choked on a mouthful of coffee.

Recovered, Cho snorted, "You really don't like Abbott!"

The smile didn't reach his eyes. "Not after his handling of the SCU in the CBI take down. –Oh. Be sure Wylie shares his discovery with Hastings before we meet with Abbott."

Cho blinked, but made the call before they left the restaurant.

Mid-afternoon, FBI Field Office, Washington DC

"Cho?" asked Abbott, joining Cho's team in the conference room.

"Got what you need, sir." Cho slid a sheaf of papers across the table to Abbott. "Murder evidence first. These are faxed copies of the bank drafts and notes." Cho pointed to the type-written lines. "Wylie determined these typefaces didn't exist till the '90's. Whoever created these documents faked them on modern computers. Won't stand up in court."

Abbott's grimaced in disappointment. Brusquely, "Give me a minute." He pulled out his cell phone and left the room, closing the door. Lisbon and Cho each pursed their lips, not appreciating having their honesty questioned. Jane's expression remained perfectly neutral.

Abbott returned a few minutes later. Seating himself, "What else?"

"Immunity for Visualize and Stiles for under three years. From when you discovered the Blake Association and busted the CBI till we start our bust of the Blake leaders."

Abbott inhaled deeply, his satisfaction apparent. "That's much better."

Jane noted, "The FBI is free to pursue Stiles if anything does come to light. You've won that running room. And you'll get the names of Blake leaders."

Cho resumed, "Jason Cooper won't be pardoned till Stiles delivers, but Stiles needs him out of prison to access Visualize records and list the Blake leaders. I recommend electronic monitoring and an FBI guard detail."

Abbott rumbled, "Acceptable."

Jane straightened, eyes intent upon Abbott. "Someone high in the FBI either is Blake or is a Blake spy. Will you ensure secrecy till your simultaneous raid so they don't disappear?"

"Despite your opinion of us, Jane, we can handle basic law enforcement protocol. Word will not get out until the take down." Glancing to Lisbon and Cho, "I expect all of you to respect that protocol. No off-the-record heads up to former colleagues. Understood?"

Cho. "Yes, sir." Lisbon and Jane just nodded.

Abbott stood. "This I can work with. I'll let you know tonight if the Deputy Director agrees. It will take him a day to get the AG's approval. Then a Bureau attorney and Stiles's attorney will draft the agreement." Jane took a breath about to comment, but Abbott cut him off. Condescendingly, "Yes, Jane. I'll make sure the attorney is trustworthy. Dismissed."

Cho's team arrived in Austin before midnight, their bone weariness attesting to the avalanche of events since the attack of Abbott and Fischer.

The AG's letter was finalized four days later.