Chapter 33: Uncharted

En Route, Sacramento

Lisbon and Jane rode back to their hotel in silence. Haffner's death hit them hard for different reasons. Though it was decades since Lisbon was squeamish at murder scenes, it was another thing when a bloated, decaying corpse was someone she'd known. Hell, someone I dated. How'd he escape the explosion? Who helped? Why let everyone think he died? And the money! Money enough for a mountaintop mansion and ultra-luxury cars! Every speculation led places she shied from. Haffner had been one of Jane's seven Red John suspects, but it was McAllister in the end. Where did Haffner fit in? Innocent cop/colleague/casual friend? Or something more sinister?

Memories flitted through her mind unbidden. The not-bad-looking – Okay, handsome – fellow agent, amicable, admiring. A few pleasant dates that went nowhere. Mutual recognition and respect – a friendly competition. And then complications when Jane joined the team. She realized with a jolt: Bosco; Haffner, too? Jane had a genius for pissing off people he didn't like. Soon after Jane entered the picture her occasional dating forays all ended quickly. She mentally shrugged. She hadn't much cared then and she certainly didn't now. Realizing she'd drifted far afield she shook herself from her reverie.

Forty minutes into the drive a stoplight provided an opportunity to eye Jane. Jane stared sightlessly out the window, mind no more on the present than hers was.

"Hey," she said quietly, "penny for 'em?"

He blinked. "Pardon?"

"What are you thinking?"

"What do you think?" She gave him a long-suffering look, years past playing that game. Eyes now closed and head against the headrest he relented. "Haffner was the link between Visualize and Blake. McAllister turned him."

Lisbon flinched at the thought – sadness, disappointment and blazing anger. She'd really hoped Haffner was not involved at the time and had grieved his unwarranted death at Malibu. Now what should I think? She refocused on the road as the light changed.

"McAllister was at that farm along with Haffner. Stiles noticed both, helped them, encouraged them. McAllister would have been the favorite. Though Haffner was intelligent, McAllister was brilliant. Eventually he and Stiles had a falling out, maybe because his bloodlust threatened Visualize. Whatever the reason, McAllister left, recruited followers, founded Blake. He had something on Stiles that prevented Stiles from turning him over to the cops. ... Or me."

She glanced at him, his face alternately shadowed and lit by streetlights. Stomach churning at the thought, "Did – did Haffner know McAllister was Red John all along?"

"Probably ... not," he slowly concluded. "Haffner wasn't that good a liar. I would have picked up on something that big. After the split, Haffner became Bret's favorite. I always wondered why he left the more prestigious FBI for the CBI. The CBI connections would be more useful for a cult headquartered in California." After a pause, "That move put Haffner under McAllister's man Bertram. McAllister turned Haffner sometime before Malibu. When he arranged the explosion, all three were rescued. Stiles was a useful tool; Haffner, his Visualize mole. –That's why Haffner didn't have the tattoo."

"And?"

"McAllister's death left a vacuum and Haffner seized control. With Abbott arresting the Blake foot-soldiers, Haffner had to replace the revenue fast. Stiles was dying. Haffner had the credibility to overthrow Cooper. Delivering black market drugs and guns was something Visualize members could do. Lucrative."

"Haffner liked fine things," she mused, remembering Haffner's job offer, gripes about California budget cuts, and his hand-tailored clothes when he visited after Red John marked her. My God, Haffner was working for McAllister by then! She shuddered at the ugly truth hidden by Haffner's clean cut image. Another roach hiding in plain sight all these years.

"Appears so."

Lisbon pulled into the hotel parking deck. Neither moved. She voiced the question. "Was Haffner murdered?"

"There are no–"

"–coincidences," they said simultaneously.

"Stiles?"

He nodded, face lined and tired in harsh fluorescent light. "For his reputation. And revenge after Haffner's betrayal." Jane sat motionless and morose, not bothering to hide it.

Lisbon's forehead creased. "Do not go there. Stiles had him killed."

"I knew he'd kill the usurper. Just wondering whose tally to increment – Stiles, mine, or both."

Equally dismayed and irritated, "Jane – don't do this. You didn't even like Haffner."

"I live in a charnel house, Lisbon. Angie and Charlotte. Renfrew. Bosco and his team. Kristina. Leelee. Wainwright. Lorelei. And others who'd be alive if I'd been smarter. Faster."

Suddenly she was by the open passenger door, tugging his arm. Determined. "Not any more. C'mon." They rode the elevator up in silence.

Jane sat slumped at the foot of the bed while Lisbon bolted the door. She walked over, slid his jacket from his shoulders and started unbuttoning his vest.

Voice flat. "What are you doing?"

"Changing the subject." He shook his head, but jerked when her fingers brushed his skin as she started on his shirt.

And she did.

Despite reverberations of death and rage and guilt, her hands and lips evoked a response. His body betrayed him, life insistently surging. He was alive and loved. He loved in return. They coupled, desperate and intense and rough. Sated and enervated, he fell asleep instantly. Listening to his deep, regular breathing Lisbon was satisfied in return, not only sexually but also in intent. He had overcome daunting odds to rejoin the living. She'd be damned if she'd let him wallow in the past. He'd returned to share his life with her and, by God, that is what they would do. Blake was over.

Lisbon woke first the next morning, pleased Jane remained soundly asleep. She showered and dressed, brushed her hair and did her make-up. Distracted, she startled to see Jane leaning against bathroom doorframe clad in just boxers. She surreptitiously put her hand over the blister pack card with 28 spaces – all empty.

Belatedly, "Morning."

He nodded and gave her a crooked grin. "Thanks for giving me a swift kick last night. ... And for the distraction."

"My pleasure," returning his grin. Picking up yesterday's conversation she sighed, "Red John's dead, Blake's over, you're back. And now you're gonna be depressed? You said you wanted a life. I'm holding you to it."

Great – irritation blended with empathy. He shrugged diffidently. "Yeah. I needed a shove to get my head out of my ... past."

Lisbon fastened her other earring, forgetting the card on the counter.

Jane motioned with his chin. "We going to talk about it sometime?"

Damn. Casually, "Sometime."

Two steps and he pulled her against his chest, arms around her waist. "I'm not opposed, you know," facing her reflection.

Like I 'know.' How the hell would I know anything you complicated, confounding man? She turned in his arms. "Do you want kids?"

He pressed his lips together, frowning in thought. "I need you. What I want? Not so clear." He took a breath. "I – I'd like to have a home, make a home with you. It's been a long time. ... For the rest, we need to work it out."

"Hey. So long as we keep talking." Reaching a decision, she unconsciously squared her shoulders. "Doesn't have to be California. Not if it's gonna bring it all back up."

He brushed her lips in a kiss. "I want California. It's just–" he sighed, "I'm tired of death, everyone dying around me–"

"Not everyone. Not Cho and Rigs and Grace. Us."

"Thankfully," he agreed. "There is that. Maybe we can we do something that doesn't focus on death? For awhile?"

She kissed him back. "We'll talk, okay? –Lots of time since Abbott owns your ass for the next few years."

She didn't catch his, "We'll see."

After a moment he extricated himself from her arms to start his morning routine. They were out the door a half hour later.

FBI, Sacramento,Wednesday

Cho pulled them aside to an empty observation room as soon as they arrived.

Curious, "What's up, Cho?"

He squarely faced them like a soldier at attention. Conditioned for life, Jane thought idly.

"Boss. Jane." His lips tightened. Flatly, "I'm breaking my promise. Relocating to California soon as the Blake interviews are over."

Ashamed of going back on his word, but decided, thought Jane.

Lisbon asked, "Your mom?"

Cho gave a stiff nod.

Jane sat casually on the corner of the table. "Think Abbott will help?"

"No. Irrelevant."

Jane tipped his head to the side with a smile. "Make him. Or let me. Don't be stupid."

"My business." Cho was confused. Jane's – happy? What?! He shrugged ready to end the uncomfortable conversation and start work.

"Cho, wait."

He turned back. Lisbon tried and failed to hide her distress at his announcement. He really hoped she didn't think he'd change his mind. "Yeah?"

"Haffner turned up dead. Died a couple days ago." She glanced at her partner, "Jane thinks he was murdered."

Cho wrenched his focus back to business. "By?"

"Stiles."

He silently worked through the implications. "Abbott will grab that like a bulldog. He'll think you knew in advance," he said looking at Jane. "If Stiles did it, any way to nail him for it?"

Jane responded thoughtfully, "No. Stiles would work through others. Or he could have fanned fears that Haffner would betray the Blake leaders. Let Blake take care of it for him."

Cho chewed that over, the cop in him offended at being unable to prove who arranged a murder. Stiles came closer to equaling Jane than anyone else Cho knew of. It wasn't the first time Cho was relieved Jane had no interest in founding a cult or heading a conspiracy.

Lisbon broke the silence. "I want us – you, me, Jane – kept out of it. We're done tackling massive cults that would hound us till the day we die." She glared at Jane, daring him to argue. Surprisingly he nodded his agreement.

Cho looked at them appraisingly. "Visualize is shady, sometimes criminal. But not nearly as destructive as Red John and Blake. See what I can do."

It would have to wait. Abbott's entire team began interviewing the nearly 200 Blake suspects, entailing more long days, six or seven days per week. The agents passed around the tired joke that needing eight hours of shuteye disqualified you from the FBI. There was exhilaration, too. Most had been working Blake for nearly three years. They had rounded up literally thousands of low-level Blake members. Now they were getting the leaders, courtesy of the unlikely personage of Patrick Jane. Few thought of him as a con man and murderer anymore.

The team already had enough to make charges stick on their suspects. This was the chance to get leads on undiscovered Blake members before they ran. The agents involved Jane when they figured a reluctant suspect had information worth uncovering. With 15 agents conducting interviews Jane was continuously busy.

Abbott summoned Cho, Lisbon and Jane to his temporary office just after lunch.

"Sir?" Cho entered and seated himself along with Lisbon and Jane.

"Raymond Haffner was found dead yesterday."

"We heard."

"He supposedly died two years ago in that explosion," Abbott glanced at Jane, "at your house." He looked back to Cho. "Why didn't you report it?"

"Hightower would notify you if a suspicious COD is established. You were busy," Cho replied. That morning as soon as Abbott assigned interrogation duties he left to calm California law enforcement honchos and handle the press. Another big Blake operation in California inevitably sparked media interest and renewed friction with local law enforcement. Hightower mentioned the curious death of Haffner to Abbott in passing.

Abbott continued quietly, ironically. "Hightower's ME declared it murder. Decomposition makes it uncertain, but it likely was by injecting a massive overdose of insulin via the navel. Clever." Jane shuddered at a distant memory of his close call with a murderer who had a similar MO. Abbott leaned back taking in all three. "Thoughts?"

Cho responded for his team. "Suspicious. Haffner turning up alive. The murder." He looked to Lisbon and Jane. "Pick up anything at the scene?"

"Jane and I were there as a courtesy for a former CBI colleague. We didn't notice anything beyond his death."

Abbott's eyes narrowed. "Jane?"

Jane raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Coincidental, but not much evidence to go on."

Irritation beginning to show, "Give me your ideas un-supported by evidence."

Lisbon replied neutrally, "Ray Haffner used to be in Visualize. He was one of Jane's seven key suspects before McAllister proved to be Red John. No one on my team – former team had any contact with Haffner since he was presumed dead in Malibu."

Abbott turned a piercing gaze on her. Mildly, "And how would you know unless you talked about him?"

It was harder and harder to set aside her dislike for the man. Lisbon snapped, "They'd have mentioned it. A dead man surfacing is kinda noteworthy."

Jane smoothly picked it up, "Abbott, I had no idea Haffner survived till Hightower invited us to the scene. Haffner's involvement with Visualize and escape from the explosion imply connections to McAllister and Stiles." He leaned forward for emphasis, "But I have nothing concrete about his death."

"Didn't come up when you met with Stiles?"

Jane leaned back and smiled faintly, "So you have been tailing Stiles. And me?"

Cho interrupted. "Sir, we know nothing more than you. You have doubts about us – Jane especially. Argues against our being involved in the case."

Voice hard and cutting, "Each of you: Did you know Haffner was alive?" Each answered 'no' as he looked from person to person. "Did you know Haffner would be killed?" Another round of negatives. "Do you know who killed him?" 'No's.' "Who do you suspect?"

"Blake or Visualize," Cho hazarded.

"The same," answered Lisbon.

"Stiles, but purely a guess," answered Jane.

"Why did you meet with Stiles?"

"To confirm that our deal was done. He gave up the names. The FBI rounded them up. Finis. Didn't want loose ends with Stiles."

Abbott looked at each with a jaundiced eye. "Assuming there's a Blake connection, I'm assigning it to Dilulio. For the moment I'll assume none of you had prior knowledge or any involvement. Make yourselves available for questioning."

Only Cho had the grace to say, "Yes, Sir." Lisbon and Jane grudgingly nodded.

A 50-something, slight, beautiful brunette woman brushed past as they left Abbott's office. She slammed the door closed.

Jane half-smiled. "That is one irritated woman."

Cho. "Marion Schultz."

"Ah." Jane suddenly whispered to Lisbon, "Sure you want out of the FBI?"

Frowning at the non sequitur, "Y-e-a-h. What's that got to do with anything?"

Voices indistinct but loud and angry were heard through Abbott's door. Jane only smiled as they headed toward the break room for tea and coffee.

Dennis Abbott silently sat through Schultz's withering diatribe. His division director had flown in that morning and was every bit as infuriated as expected. Abbott had left her uninformed when the press clamored for information about the explosion in the parking lot. Then she discovered she was completely in the dark about the day's major operation against Blake. And now, Abbott just informed her that the FBI's Deputy Director had authorized the operation. Abbott had gone around her. She was too angry to hear Abbott's justification – that Stiles would only cooperate if just one of Abbott's superiors knew about the deal. She left. The door banged against the wall and drifted halfway closed. Abbott exhaled slowly. He sure as hell hoped his Blake success got him promoted out of Texas. Marion Schultz wasn't going to forgive and forget any time soon.

Schultz strode across the room ignoring the curious stares of Abbott's agents. A voice called out as she passed the break room.

"Alexa!" Jane's voice wasn't loud, but it carried. Projecting his voice was basic for a showman.

Her gait hitched and she turned her head sharply.

Jane's devilish grin met her gaze. "Thought so. Alexa Shultz is your sister – in fact, twin sister." He took a few leisurely paces toward her, scrutinizing her like a bug on a lab slide.

Rough, angry, "Who the hell are you?"

"Patrick Jane, your consultant. –When you and Alexa joined the FBI you decided to spell your last names differently to avoid confusion, right?" He half-shrugged and added mockingly, "Sidestepped the embarrassment that your sister was a Blake leader, didn't it?"

If looks could kill, Jane would be buried six feet under. Regaining her poise she said icily, "You are out of line. Shut. Up. Or get suspended."

Jane smirked. "No worries. I can see you aren't Blake."

Schultz ground her teeth and glared, then pivoted and left. A swell of hushed voices rose as the elevator doors hid her face red with rage and humiliation.

Jane strolled back to the break room. "I believe we have interrogations to tend?"

Lisbon and Cho gathered their wits. Lisbon hissed in passing, "First chance you're going to tell me what the hell you're up to!" She marched past, nearly as angry as Schultz.

Cho merely said, "Better know what you're doing."

The 15 agents and one consultant ground through back-to-back interviews for the rest of the day. By day's end, all were exhausted from non-stop intense concentration with wily suspects who knew the law enforcement system inside and out. Lisbon drew Cho and Jane aside as soon as Abbott released the team for the day.

Calm but still angry, "Out with it Jane. Why bait Schultz?"

"Eh, you know."

Frustrated, "Dammit, Jane."

Cho called him on it. "No secrets. That's the agreement."

Jane hesitated, thought about countering with the fact that Cho was breaking the deal. But that would inflict real harm when his friend was already torn by conflicting obligations. He reluctantly explained, "Confirmed she isn't Blake." Both waited for more. "And I want out of the FBI and Texas." He glanced at Lisbon, confirming she wanted out too. "I'll be too useful for them to break the contract, but so irritating they'll want me gone."

"Oh, brilliant!" Lisbon exploded. "That's worth risking 20-to-life?" Her sarcasm didn't quite hide her fear.

Cho calmly asked, "Sure it'll work?" No wonder Jane's okay with my quitting.

Lightly, "Uh-huh. Guys, I don't second guess you when you say you can make a shot, take down a perp. I know what I'm doing," he ended with an infectious, encouraging grin.

Refusing to be charmed, "I'm s'posed to just stand around and watch the fireworks?"

He pursed his lips then smiled puckishly, "Pretty much."

Cho shrugged and let it go. Jane would do what he wanted and Cho had every reason to believe he'd succeed. Cho suspected Jane would have a lot more convincing to do with Lisbon.

Lisbon got up, setting it aside. "Delgado's for dinner. We'd better get going."

"I have to be somewhere else," Cho said and left immediately.

Lisbon and Jane joined the team for dinner.

CIB, Sacramento

"Will you hire me?"

The black woman regarded him coolly. "No."

Cho sat without reacting, then rose, "Thank you for your time."

"Sit down, Cho," Hightower said mildly, firmly. She smiled when Cho slowly sank back to the seat. "Not now," she expanded.

"Why?"

"Because you're being stupid." She was impressed when he didn't react to the jibe. "Cho, you're an excellent agent who's establishing an outstanding reputation in the FBI. You're unnecessarily sacrificing your career."

"That's my call," Cho said tersely.

"Abbott said you planned this Blake operation – this highly successful, important operation. A promotion is coming your way unless I'm mistaken. And I'm not," she said, her certainty almost as annoying as Jane's.

Stiffly, "I need to relocate to California immediately."

"For?"

"It's personal."

Hightower smoothed her perfectly coiffed hair. "Rigsby and Van Pelt will help your mother. And Abbott will give you personal leave." His eyes widened. She said, amused, "Don't look surprised. One of their conditions when I hired them."

"Why don't you want me in the CIB?"

Intensely, "If the FBI doesn't relocate you here within a month, you have a job in the CIB. But you'd be even more valuable in the FBI." At his faint frown, "Cho, the pissing match between the old CBI and Sac FBI was ridiculous. Wasted resources, constant friction and suspicion. If you stay with the FBI you can make that better."

Cho unbent fractionally. "Yes, Ma'am. But–"

"But your mother. How will she feel if you sacrifice your career for her?" Cho swallowed, said nothing. "Your friends will do anything for you. Let them help! You can honor more than one obligation if you accept a little help." She looked aside and Cho caught an unexpected flash of emotion. "–No one is better off alone, Cho. I owe my freedom and my family's lives to help when I needed it."

Cho took a breath and released it slowly. "Director Hightower, how should I proceed?"

She was surprised and pleased. "Tell Abbott what you need and give him time to make it happen." She caught his skepticism. "Get high enough in law enforcement and everyone knows everyone. You and Abbott didn't start off well, but that's changed. Dennis rewards good people and, above all, results. You've earned his support. I believe he'll deliver."

"Yes, Ma'am." He stood and extended his hand. "Thank you for the advice. And – we can talk again if the FBI won't relocate me?"

"Absolutely. Best wishes for your mother."