Chapter 31: 200 Ducks, All In A Row

Washington, D.C.

Dennis Abbott pulled out the chair to seat his wife in the up-scale DC restaurant. The local FBI agent providing security took a table nearby and ordered coffee. Abbott bowed to the need for security but that didn't mean he liked it. Rather than drag an Austin agent to DC, the two offices handed off the security detail when he traveled. They ordered drinks, made their selections and set aside the menus.

Lena sipped her daiquiri and gazed curiously at her husband. "Deni, I know you can't talk case details, but you were away all week instead of the two days you expected. And after being injured too." Her fond expression was laced with distress.

"I'm fine," he responded automatically. At her visible concern, he repeated more convincingly, "I'm fine, Lena. No more headache and the double vision is completely gone. He sipped his own drink. "There were ... complications but it seems to be working out."

Careful to keep it general, "You got the go ahead you wanted?" She'd figured out he was going around Marion Schultz, head of the regional office and his direct supervisor. High stakes.

He nodded. "I'm thinking this will be the critical step in putting a long case to rest." He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, reflecting on the week. "Damnedest thing. The former CBI team–"

"–Cho's team, right?"

He nodded, "–is a force unto itself. I was right."

"Good? Or bad?"

He snorted. "Both. They're smart and experienced and effective. And nearly impossible to control. Half the time I'm not sure who's managing who."

She frowned. "Insubordination?"

"Not on ordinary cases. Just the one they really care about."

"Expected, no? You said from the start putting those three – Cho, Jane and Lisbon is it? – onto a team was risky."

"Jane's the main problem. He's as far from FBI material as I've seen. Razor sharp, devious - anything but a team player. FBI had an APB out for them," public knowledge he could mention. "Eluded that and proceeded with the case without a 'by your leave.' An asset if I could control him."

"Which you say you can't." She looked at him inquiringly.

"When this case is over, not sure what the hell to do with him."

She commented gently, "Sounds like there isn't enough trust for teamwork on either side." Her husband grunted and sipped his drink, indicating it was an uncomfortable truth he wasn't willing to discuss. Yet. Her practiced eye caught a fleeting expression. "You're relieved about something." Not a question.

Dennis admitted sheepishly, "I was set on a course of action. The con man proposed something else."

"And?"

"Good thing he did. Evidence was faked. Kind of mistake on which careers crash and burn."

She unsuccessfully tried to hide a grin, "Wounded pride, Deni?"

He puffed out his cheeks. "Maybe. Indispensable for this case but after, who knows. Chronic chaos." He sighed, "Enough. That's tomorrow's headache. –How's Kimmie?"

"Settled in our guest room. Doctors say she's healing well, but she's in pain."

"Physical or psycholo–"

"–Both. Painful adhesions – internal scar tissue. Physical therapy's s'posed to help. It'll take time to get over her father's death – and betrayal. I never would have thought Don Fischer would go dirty."

Decisively, determined to make it be true, "She'll be okay. She'll be a stronger agent in the end."

Quietly, "Hope some good comes of this terrible experience."

Dennis cleared his throat. "Enough FBI talk. Why does Commerce want you here?"

"VIP conference. Boss says I need to be seen if I want that promotion."

"He's helped your career so far. And if you get it–?"

Enthusiasm tempered by anxiety, "I'll have to relocate. I," she swallowed, "don't know how we juggle marriage 1,500 miles apart."

Dennis was chary about the vetting process, about what might surface before even facing long-distance marriage. He only said, "We'll make it work, Lena. Always do."

Talk turned to easier topics: Their younger daughter's new job, her sister's almost-serious boyfriend, tentative plans for year-end holidays. They got to spend the night together in a luxury hotel before he flew back and resumed work on Blake. It was his biggest success. But unless he got the leaders, it could be the case on which his career foundered.

Austin

The morning sun painted the bedroom gold and teased red highlights from Lisbon's hair. The pristine picket fence glowed white, contrasting sharply with cool green lawn and vividly hued flowers. His wife nestled against him, warm and soft. The faint smell of sex from earlier hung in the air. He planted a fond kiss on her silky hair in appreciation. Then a bang, the patter of feet, and a child's laughte– BZZZZ ... BZZZZ

Jane groaned and reached for his cell on the night stand. Lisbon slept on since it wasn't her ring tone. He shrugged off the utter cliche his subconscious had served up as he blinked away the fog of sleep and disappointment of reality. He took himself to task: I'm back with Lisbon! More than I hoped for on that wretched island. He answered the phone.

Quietly, "Jane ... Cho, why are you calling at the crack of–" he glanced at the clock, "-10? ... We were tired. ... Now?" He sighed, "Okay, see you then." He tossed it on the table and collapsed backward onto his pillow. He turned and stroked Lisbon's bare shoulder, goosebumps trailing his touch.

"Mmmm." She shifted closer.

Jane caressed her face and whispered sweetly, "Cho will be here in half an hour, dear."

Nothing. Then she squeaked and sat bolt upright, eyes wide. "Cho?! We have a case?"

"Uh-uh. Something about security. He insisted on now."

She swore and tumbled out of bed, wanting a shower before facing company. Jane rose leisurely and roughly straightened the bed.

"Breakfast in a trice," he called. If she hurried, he'd also have time to shower.

Thirty minutes later Lisbon and Jane sipped their coffee and tea while Cho finished a second helping of pancakes and eggs.

"Thanks. Skipped breakfast."

They had waited politely till Cho finished eating. Annoyed at being hustled through her Saturday morning, Lisbon demanded, "Out with it, Cho. What's up?"

Cho slid back from the table as Jane cleared dishes and refilled his coffee. "Blake will be a lot more dangerous now that we're tackling the leaders. Need better security now." Regardless of Abbott's intentions, they expected the secrecy to fail. There were 13 other agents, the Deputy Director, an unknown attorney from headquarters. Too many potential leaks. Just moving Jason Cooper from the pen would be a heads up for Blake.

"We pair up anytime we're off FBI premises. What more do you have in mind?"

"You and Lisbon are the big names. Blake knows you either have the drive or know who does. I'm pairing up with you two."

"Jane and I are a pair. What–"

"Jane's no good in combat." Jane frowned but didn't – couldn't – disagree. "You're protecting yourself and a non-combatant. Not good enough."

"But Wylie–"

"Wylie and Hastings started sticking together when we were in DC. Makes sense to continue."

Jane suggested slyly, "Tired of computer gaming and techno babble?" Cho pinned him with a flat look. Jane ducked his head and looked away, muttering, "Too amusing to let pass."

Lisbon and Cho ignored him. "Cho, what good is it if you're across town?"

"Two apartments side-by-side. You and Jane take one. The other for me."

She frowned, "Still useless if you're locked out."

"We need a connecting door."

"What?!"

"Access and surprise. Wylie's place was tossed last week." Cho answered the question on Jane's face. "Got nothing. –And Rigs said a stranger was hanging around Grand Junction. Scared off when the sheriff tried to approach him."

Lisbon puffed her cheeks as she exhaled. "Think the apartment manager'll agree?"

Jane suggested, "With money to change it back, sure."

"Good." Cho rose. "Let's talk to your landlord."

Lisbon was taken aback by Cho's urgency, but couldn't think of a reason to delay. Jane's dazed reaction during the firefight at Abbott's was too recent a memory.

By evening, they had a connecting door through back-to-back closets.

Tuesday, FBI, Austin

Abbott addressed the assembled Blake team members and Cho's group. The 17 people crowded the small space. There was no help for it since Abbott insisted on the soundproofed room. He wouldn't take the chance that the briefing would go beyond those present – even to other FBI personnel or the occasional visitor.

He held up his hand and they quieted immediately. "Last week I reached an agreement with Bret Stiles of Visualize." He ignored the murmur that went around the room and lifted a sheaf of papers. "Stiles identified 203 people as likely Blake Association leaders. This is our best chance for finishing off Blake."

An agent raised his hand. "Wasn't Stiles reported killed by an explosion in California?"

"In error. Stiles has been recovering from an illness outside the US for the last 31 months. While we were arresting low-level Blake members, Blake took control of Visualize. It uses unwitting Visualize members for criminal activity."

Another agent asked, "What about murder charges against Stiles?"

"Dropped. Agent Wylie discovered the evidence was faked, confirmed by Hastings. The US AG immunized Stiles and Visualize for crimes committed from when the Blake Association was exposed until we start arresting the leaders. Also Jason Cooper, formerly of Visualize, will be pardoned for an embezzlement conviction once we confirm these are Blake leaders."

He continued. "Each of you is assigned a set of names from the same organization or geographic location. Investigate and look for evidence proving the individuals are Blake. Look for patterns, payoffs and connections to known Blake members. –Judges who dismiss cases against Blake members. Supervisory LEO's who protect Blake members reporting to them."

He paused till every eye was on him. "Your research will be followed by a simultaneous raid of everyone we believe is Blake. Maintain strict secrecy so we don't tip them off. We'll continue occasional raids of PD's and state bureaus to make it appear we're continuing our former approach. Get your assignment and get to work. Dismissed." Abbott handed the papers to Delulio, who called each agent up by name to get his particular list. Abbott paused by Cho. "My office in ten minutes."

FBI, Austin, Two Months Later

The case burned through weeks like wildfire as too few agents researched too many suspects. All worked 10-to-12-hour days and most weekends. Abbott repeatedly rejected requisitioning more agents. He came to the same grim conclusion each time: Moles had compromised the effort earlier and he wouldn't risk this promising lead.

High stress suppressed immune systems and flu traveled through the group a month into the effort. Lisbon's bronchitis yielded to antibiotics, fortunately before Jane's hovering triggered more than sharp words. It didn't help that Jane escaped the flu.

Jane was useless for computer research, but he often caught the odd, telling detail that confirmed a suspect's guilt, not just for Lisbon and Cho but the whole group. Stiles's list was the gift that kept giving. So far every individual investigated appeared to be Blake. Occasionally, a low-level Blake member was brought in for interrogation and Jane helped with that as well. To Abbott's amazement, Jane made every effort to ease tension, to leaven the endless hours of peering at computer screens. Bakery goods and premium coffee appeared unexpectedly in the break room. He took take-out orders, at first just for Lisbon and Cho, but soon for everyone working Blake. An amusing story, a timely distraction kept frayed nerves from becoming ugly friction.

Wary after years of working together, Cho finally asked. Jane's answer was painfully straightforward: Breaking the back of Blake was Jane's ticket to a normal life. With Lisbon, Cho mentally added. Jane had spent a quarter of his life getting Red John and now hunting Blake. No wonder he desperately wanted to close that door.

Former SCU employees and colleagues suffered sporadic attacks, which luckily were unsuccessful. And then they had three weeks with no attacks at all. Lisbon was euphoric; Jane, worried.

Late November, FBI, Austin

It was Thursday night two months and three weeks into investigating the names from Stiles.

"Ready?" Jane asked.

Absently, "Almost. Let me just–" Lisbon scrolled down to finish reading financial information on a Blake suspect, "check one more detail." She startled then melted with pleasure as Jane kneaded her shoulders. The relief from muscles tightly knotted by weeks hunched over a computer was almost better than sex. Almost.

Lisbon relaxed into his touch for a minute, then clicked off her computer. "Hey. It's after – eight," she said, surprised when she checked her watch. Noticing them about to leave, Cho rose and followed them to the elevator.

Noting Jane's distraction, she asked, "What's up?"

"Working through some ideas."

"Oh." She didn't press. Mentioning it at all meant he could be persuaded to talk. At home after a meal would be a far more favorable setting. They reached the lobby.

"Mr. Jane," the guard called, "Package for you."

Jane took the small package with a smile and 'thank you.' At Lisbon's frown, "Don't start. When could I get to the post office?"

Lisbon made a low noise of disapproval. It was hard to cite rules about getting personal mail at work when he was being unbelievably helpful. She almost bumped into him when he stopped dead.

"Jane!"

Unexpectedly intense, "Have to talk to Abbott tomorrow." Cho eyed him, but didn't ask. Useless until Jane was ready to talk.

The three paused at the door and checked out their surroundings. Cho got into his car, waited till Lisbon and Jane were in her SUV, then drove off.

Lisbon's stomach growled. "Go out or take-out?" she asked then sighed. If they wanted to go out they should have told Cho so he could accompany them.

Jane blinked and returned to the present. "How about delivery? Pizza?"

"With Cho?" They often folded Cho into their plans since he was staying next door.

"Rather not, if you don't mind."

She eyed him. "What's up? You only like pizza for closed cases." Jane was the only person she knew who was indifferent to pizza. Jane waved off the question, dialing in an order at their favorite pizza place.

They timed it perfectly. Jane unlocked the door while Lisbon paid the pizza guy. Jane dropped onto the couch with a sigh. Lisbon set the pizza on the counter, put on water for tea and got a beer for herself. She brought pizza and plates to the coffee table.

A few slices later Lisbon asked, "What ideas?"

He finished chewing and sipped his tea. "Van Pelt e-mailed the complete set of names today."

"Anyone Stiles missed?"

"Stiles listed everyone on Bertram's drive."

"Good, right?"

He ran hand though his hair. "It's who's not listed that worries me."

Worries? "But we know Stiles has more names than Bertram."

He shook his head. "That thumb drive was prepared before all hell broke loose. Why weren't Partridge, Alexa Shultz, and Reede Smith included? Or McAllister for that matter?"

She guessed, "Bertram knew them personally?"

"Yes. But then why weren't they on Stiles's list? As head of the Sacramento FBI division Shultz certainly would be a Blake leader."

Exhausted and beset with cramps from her period, she snarked, "Because he didn't want to or maybe he knows Shultz is in prison. –C'mon, Jane, spit it out!"

He echoed, seriously. "He didn't want to. Why?"

Reining in her temper she threw out, "To protect them." Then, thinking further despite her annoyance, "Or ... he wants to go after them himself?"

Jane pounced. "Exactly!" Lisbon waited silently, done guessing. After a moment Jane continued. "Blake and Stiles are enemies. Certainly not to protect them. Whoever Stiles omitted he wants badly enough to risk voiding our agreement."

Still no comment.

Jane took a deep breath. "Despite the religious window-dressing, Visualize is a 'strong man' regime, ruled by fear and intimidation. Yet Stiles is old. Was sick – dying. Out of the country two years."

She responded slowly, "Stiles has to deal with the usurper himself. He can't just let the FBI handle him."

Jane nodded. "What's the penalty for a coup, regicide or," his lips quirked in a humorless smile, "-deicide?"

Her eyes widened, "Stiles will kill him. –Grainger?"

He shook his head. "Grainger's a figurehead and on Stiles's list. Someone else, probably known by Bertram. So well-established in Visualize that Jason Cooper couldn't blunt the coup."

"You're giving me a headache," she complained. "Why's it matter? So we have one more unknown Blake member to hunt."

Grimly, "There's another implication."

Wearily, "Don't make me drag it out of you."

"Blake's planning a major attack on the FBI."

She gaped at him. "Because you think a name was omitted?! What?"

"That and no attacks for three weeks." Jane rolled his head uneasily to relieve tension. "Should have seen it earlier. Stiles agreed too easily, went along when I threatened to squeeze Cooper for the names." Intensely, "Stiles is using the FBI as a diversion."

Confused, "Doesn't Stiles want the FBI to arrest Blake leaders?"

"–Follow along. Stiles struck the agreement with us. Every Blake member arrested is one fewer 'accident' he has to arrange. Stiles is still under the radar, maybe Blake isn't following him closely after two years. Blake continues focusing on Bertram's drive, goes after anyone who might have it – hence, all the attacks. Stiles spends the last two months verifying who engineered the coup, finding his location. Now he needs a distraction. He leaks FBI plans for a major raid. Blake knows they're toast unless they can stop the whole operation, not just a few former CBI employees. Lisbon, the only way the Blake Association survives is by attacking the FBI and derailing the investigation."

"Everyone working on Blake knows Stiles's list."

"Precisely. That – or worse."

She blanched. "Take out the whole team? Seventeen people?"

"Or worse."

She almost asked what could be worse then remembered the Murrah building in Oklahoma City. All too possible. "Stiles would manipulate Blake to kill dozens or more for a distraction?"

"He'd prefer low key, but he'll do whatever it takes. The main thing for Stiles is to distract Blake so he can kill his opponent. Then Blake leaders scatter or the FBI arrests them. If the attack fails, the FBI still goes after the Blake leaders. If it succeeds, he's re-established his position and can slowly eliminate the Blake leaders without endangering Visualize's reputation."

"The FBI would investigate to the ends of the earth. Even if Stiles can't be nailed for the attack, he could be for arranging his opponent's murder, whoever that is."

"He has immunity. When better?"

She stared at him, stunned to think Stiles would commit murder under the nose of the FBI. She sputtered, "Abbott – Abbott'll have a heart attack!"

Neutrally, "Stiles would use others. No proof of anything."

Lisbon sat back and mulled the theory over. "I understand the reasoning, but it's kinda thin, Jane. –A lot of assumptions from a missing name or two from Bertram's drive."

Tortured eyes caught her gaze. He said, almost whispering, "But if I'm right?"

She held his gaze for long moments then wilted. Dully, "Which is why you want to talk to Abbott." He nodded. "And if Abbott doesn't see it your way?"

"I don't know." Upset. "It's dangerous. We'd need to be out of there."

She violently shook her head. "Goddammit, Jane. We are not running. Tell me you're not serious."

Frustrated. "I don't want to. We'd look suspicious as hell if we disappeared before a major attack."

Lisbon glared, waiting to hear a better idea – anything else. Jane looked utterly weary and she flashed back to their decade of hell. God, I'm tired of this fucking case! Got rid of Red John and we're still dealing with the bastard's followers years later.

Resigned, Jane just said, "I'll have to convince Abbott." Glumly, "I'll call Madeline. Ask her to watch for someone Bertram might have known turning up dead – recently, or soon."

Exhausted and depressed, "I'm turning in." Lisbon rose, sidestepping Jane's attempt to take her hand.

Jane stayed up longer, checking and rechecking his logic and intuition. He knew Lisbon was more tired than angry with him. The thought crossed his mind that the period-that-was-late had come, meaning... He shook his head, not wanting to get into that emotional morass. It was enough that she didn't think anything of it. There probably was nothing more at work than stress and exhaustion. He finally turned in well after midnight.

Neither slept well.

Austin, Morning

Cho, Lisbon and Jane met outside the apartments, linking up as they agreed. Cho glanced then looked again: Dark circles, bags, standing too far apart. Not good.

"You're gonna tell me, right?" Jane nodded. "Before you tackle Abbott." It was a demand, not a request. Jane gave another tight nod.

They walked to their vehicles and drove to work. Jane laid out his conclusions to Cho in the break room. Cho somehow looked grim without changing expression, then included himself in meeting Abbott along with Jane and Lisbon.

Abbott looked up as the three knocked and entered his office. He motioned them to sit and scrutinized them silently for a minute. "Bad news?"

Cho summarized. "Jane's figured out the next moves by Blake and Stiles. Blake is planning an attack against everyone working the case. Stiles is hoping to murder the person who engineered Blake's take-over of Visualize. Jane thinks Blake knows we're planning a major raid."

Abbott was unreadable. "Walk me through it, Jane." When Jane finished, Abbott pursed his lips and thought a few minutes. "That's a lot of assumptions, Jane."

Cho picked up the narrative. "Our moves are straightforward. Extra security precautions. For the team and building. Move against the Blake leaders right away."

Abbott's lips tightened. "Extra security in itself will alert Blake."

Jane leaned forward. "Blake already knows something's underway. How else to explain the lull in attacks?"

"We can't proceed till we finish building cases against everyone on Stiles's list."

Jane protested. "You can but are choosing not to. You're risking the whole operation for the last few names."

Abbott flushed darker. "This may be an unfamiliar concept, Jane, but the FBI is a law-enforcement organization. If we arrest people without due cause, they'll walk."

Jane was increasingly frustrated with what, to him, appeared bureaucratic foot dragging. Lisbon spoke before Jane further clashed with Abbott. Of the three, she had the most credibility on this. "I faced this problem at the CBI. The team is done with about 190 names. So far, we've uncovered evidence to believe every person we've investigated is Blake. We can arrest the remaining 13 and scramble to assemble evidence they were arrested for good cause. Even if 13 walk, we'll have gotten the rest!" After a beat, "Worth a few apologies or even a lawsuit to stamp out Blake, isn't it?"

"Cho, how much more time before we're ready for the take-down?" Abbott had assigned Cho to plan the simultaneous take-down of the Blake leaders.

"Three days. Soon as I confirm the availability of manpower in a few bureaus."

"And Stiles?"

"Tail him."

Abbott rubbed his eyebrow and pierced Jane with his look. "Only with immunity, it won't matter, will it? You set this up, Jane."

Evenly, "And you agreed. Why?

"Hard to determine Stiles's culpability separate from Blake."

"Yes it is."

"You wanted to protect Stiles. After all, what's another murder if it takes care of McAllister's protégé?"

Lisbon and Cho could read the anger behind Jane's impassive expression. Icily, "Stiles protected McAllister in Malibu. I have no reason to shield Stiles – quite the opposite. What I want is the Blake Association dismantled."

After a long moment Abbott let it drop. "Cho, finish the plan this week. I'll up security." He deliberately didn't share any plans about Stiles.

Lisbon interjected, "Anything involving the whole Blake team deserves extra caution. Avoid being in the same van, on the same flight." She swallowed. "Extend the secure perimeter to a hundred feet. Intercept and check all mail for bombs away from the building."

Abbott looked at her expressionlessly. "Dismissed."

Abbott's e-mail came out an hour later listing new security precautions for agents working on Blake. It took an hour-and-a-half before his superior, Marion Schultz, called to demand an explanation for the disruption, cost, and heightened press scrutiny. He was pretty sure she didn't buy his vague justification, but she neither pressed for details nor countermanded his decisions. The Deputy Director in DC couldn't intervene without exposing the agreement with Stiles and impending raid.

The rest of the week passed in a hurried blur. Abbott went over the final plan with Cho. There certainly was a silver lining. Assuming Blake had more moles in the system, it would be caught unawares if the raid occurred before they finished their investigations. Abbott called on an encrypted line and got the go-ahead from the Deputy Director. The raid would be conducted next week.

At Home, Austin

Lisbon and Jane spent a quiet Saturday, anticipating but nervous about the impending Blake take-down. The raid would occur early afternoon Pacific time on a weekday. It was easiest to locate their targets while they were at work. All but two targeted individuals were in the western US, making it easier to coordinate a simultaneous operation. Cho, Lisbon and Jane would be assigned to California, birthplace of the Blake Association (with Jane to be kept out of the actual confrontation). Plan details were known only by Cho and Abbott. The full team wouldn't be briefed till the morning of the raid, and would fly out immediately to work with local FBI agents.

It was Sunday when the three usually went to brunch.

"Where's Cho?" Lisbon grumbled, stomach growling audibly.

She and Jane waited outside the apartment to link up, glad that hassle would be over soon. After a few minutes, she knocked. After a few more, she called without response. Increasingly worried, she knocked loudly and used her key to enter what had been her apartment before Cho moved in.

They looked around. No Cho, but nothing was amiss. The dishwasher light glowed, patiently announcing a clean load of dishes. No forced entry. The bed was rumpled. No cell phone. Jane checked the closet, but it didn't look like anything was missing. The shower enclosure was dry.

"Maybe he just went in to work," Lisbon speculated.

"SUV's gone," Jane noted outside, lending support to that idea. "Still, it was his idea to always pair up."

Neither Abbott nor the front desk FBI security agent had seen or heard from Cho.